


The Seventh Year

by bccaw



Series: Cursed [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Good Severus Snape, Minor Original Character(s), Romance, Severus Snape Lives, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 128,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25959952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bccaw/pseuds/bccaw
Summary: Hermione and her friends return to Hogwarts to complete their missed seventh year. Harry still thinks Draco is up to something. Severus and Hermione begin to see more of each other than they expected, resulting in a few surprising revelations.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: Cursed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882897
Comments: 29
Kudos: 191





	1. Wendell and Monica Wilkins

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part to "Cursed" and will finish the series. Yes, there IS romance in this one, I promise.

Hermione Granger sat on the new squashy sofa by the window with a book in her lap, massaging her temples. She had been reading all morning, and now even the faint ticking of the clock in the hall made her head throb. Hermione groaned and uncurled her legs from under her, tossing the book on the floor. She lay on the couch with her arm over her eyes, trying to shut out the light. A light breeze blew in under the gauzy curtains she had hung, making a stray curl tickle her face.  
  
Harry was using the shower upstairs. The old pipes protested as a magically-enhanced stream of water rushed through them. Hermione had quickly grown tired of the weak stream that used to slosh out of the shower head and had spent an hour researching plumbing charms the night before in order to fix it.  
  
Since returning from Australia, Harry had been trying to erase the memories from Grimmald Place with aggressive repairs and redecorating. Hermione had helped him order new furniture and fix the creaky stairs. She had researched everything from self-hammering nails to chimney-sweeping spells. The only part of the house left untouched was Siruis’ old room.  
  
In one week Harry and Hermione would return to Hogwarts to complete their seventh year. Harry did not have to complete his education, as the Ministry had guaranteed him immediate placement in the Auror program. However, he had told them that he wanted to earn the right to be an Auror, just like anyone else.  
  
Hermione wanted to believe that Harry was going to take his studies seriously for the first time in his life, but she suspected that it was only pride and his intense dislike of fame that kept him from accepting the Ministry’s offer. He had never had any qualms accepting grades that Hermione earned for him. She had finally asked him about it, warning him that she would not be any writing essays for him this year.  
  
“I know, Hermione. I probably should have just taken the spot in the Auror program,” he said. “School's going to be a nightmare this year. Snape’s headmaster, and with the whole school acting like I’m god incarnate he’s going to hate me more than ever. I’ll probably be expelled. But I couldn’t start Auror training. I still don’t even really understand how I defeated Voldemort! Everyone sees me as this invincible, deadly wizard with powers the Dark Lord didn’t have… but they’re wrong. I don’t know anything.”  
  
Harry was not ready for Auror training, that was true, but Hermione reassured him that he was still one of the best Defense students Hogwarts had seen in years. Hermione was glad that Harry would return to Hogwarts. He was the only friend she could depend on. He had spent lot of time with Hermione since Snape’s recovery from the curse, as he and Ginny were no longer a couple.  
  
“I just couldn’t have the same fight again,” Harry had said when he visited Hermione at Hogwarts on the night of the break-up.  
  
“She’s gone crazy! She tells me she thinks Ron was wrong, but then she expects me to act like nothing happened and to ‘get on with life’. Well I can’t! Padma’s still there, you aren’t, and Ginny always takes Ron’s side! She never would have let him get away with being such a selfish prat _before_ …”  
  
 _Before Fred was killed,_ thought Hermione. Harry was right. The Ginny she knew would never have condoned Ron’s behavior, or accepted Padma so easily. Hermione knew she should not play psychologist with her friends, but it was hard to stop. She got it from her mother.  
  
It was her mother’s overly confident analysis of other people’s relationships that prompted her to bluntly share her opinions, often making things worse for the people she was trying to help. With that observation in mind, Hermione tried to keep her opinions to herself.  
  
It was her opinion that a break was just what Harry and Ginny needed. Ginny was cutting Harry out of her life, always putting her family first. Even though Harry had long been considered an adopted Weasley, he was separated from the family by Fred’s death. The usually tight-knit Weasley family was now trying to repair the bonds that had been broken and neglected over the past years of fear and war. Percy was back, and Bill and Charlie visited much more often.  
  
Harry was no stranger to loss, but he had been no help in repairing the fabric of comfortable, everyday life at the Weasley house. Harry had never known a home or a life that was safe and comfortable, even at Hogwarts, and he bluntly and stubbornly resisted the pretense of normal family life with the Weasleys. Beyond his refusal to move on, his very presence was a reminder of both the past happy times and the war that had taken their son and brother from them.  
  
Hermione had simply told Harry not to give up on the Weasleys, especially Ginny and Ron, and asked him if he would come to Australia with her to find her parents.  
  
“Ron was supposed be the one to go with you,” Harry had said darkly. “Did you ask him?”  
  
Hermione sighed. Harry was about as sensitive as a rock.  
  
“Ron and I aren’t exactly on good terms, or haven’t you noticed? Besides...” Hermione couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “He’s probably forgotten about that by now.”  
  
The next day, Harry pulled some strings at the Ministry and got them a portkey for a ‘vacation’ in Australia before returning to school. Luckily, Kingsley Shacklebolt was able to do it discreetly and Hermione was spared the fiasco of _The Prophet_ – specifically Rita Skeeter – spreading the rumor that she was Harry’s new girlfriend.  
  
Hermione visited Ron and Ginny before she left. Sitting in the Weasleys' kitchen drinking tea, she told them that she and Harry were leaving in two days to look for her parents. Ron fumbled his way through an excuse for not remembering or wanting to come, turning red. He had promised George that he would help him get the shop back up and running that week. Hermione might have reminded him of the time he had held her while she cried and promised to help her find her parents, but she was only able to swallow with some difficulty as the memory of Fred filled the silence between them.  
  
Ginny had looked a mess that day, her hair pulled back carelessly into a ponytail, wearing a faded t-shirt with a hole in the shoulder, one of Bill’s old band shirts. There was a graphic of fanged teeth on the front with the words, “Vampire Ire” and “Bite me”.  
  
“I hope they’re okay, and that you find them soon, Hermione,” Ginny said, staring determinedly at her teacup. “I wish I could come with you… but that’s impossible now.”  
  
It was then that Hermione was finally convinced that Ginny really loved Harry. She had expected Ginny to be angry after the breakup. Ginny had flippantly broken a few hearts before Harry noticed her, falling quickly into relationships with boys like Dean and dropping them when it was not fun anymore. It had seemed for quite some time, that Ginny was only in love with the idea of Harry Potter. What could be more romantic than believing you were destined to be with your childhood crush – who happened to be 'The Chosen One' – and would never be able to love anyone else? Ginny had professed that belief more than once to Hermione, who had tried not to scoff at the idea.  
  
Hermione did not believe in fated love. Divination was a load of crock, and even though magical folk believed in prophecy, she remained a skeptic.  
  
Hermione wondered what it was like to have your heart broken, or to feel like half your soul was missing, or however it was supposed to feel when you suddenly lost ‘the one’. She glanced at Ron and tried to imagine what she would have done if there had been a real breakup. Would she have been like Ginny, lifeless and deflated?  
  
Hermione and Harry went to Australia. It was easy to find her parents, as they were the only two dentists in Australia with the last name ‘Wilkens’. They had their own practice and a sleek website complete with photos of themselves. Hermione had cried when she saw them on the computer screen at the Muggle hotel where she and Harry were staying. They took a bus to her parents’ office and watched it all day. Her father arrived in the morning and left around five. Harry and Hermione hid in the back of his car under the invisibility cloak, using Muffliato to hide their breathing. Her father parked the car outside of a two-story brick house. Lights were on inside. They waited a few minutes and then climbed out of the car and crossed the street.  
  
Crouching under the invisibility cloak, Hermione stared at the house. She could feel Harry looking at her. Her throat was dry, and her mouth seemed to be glued shut.  
  
“Hermione?”  
  
She swallowed.  
  
“What, Harry?’  
  
“Aren’t you – er – going to… you know…”  
  
“Of course I am, Harry, I just need a minute!”  
  
Harry was silent and the minutes stretched on. Her father would have turned on the news, like he always did when he got home. Her mother was probably tossing a salad, making pasta, and pouring herself a glass of wine.  
  
Hermione made Harry hide behind a shrub row to take off the invisibility cloak. Then, she crossed the street.  
  
“Hermione!”  
  
Hearing Harry’s urgent whisper, she looked back and frowned at him.  
  
“Do you want me to wait out here?”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and motioned for him to follow her. He joined her on the doorstep a few minutes later. Hermione rang the bell. Muffled voices and footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door, just before it opened enough for the slim figure of her mother fill the space between door and frame.  
  
Hermione froze. She had been ready to offer a polite greeting, but when she saw her mother standing there in her favorite jeans and cozy cardigan, her bushy hair pulled back in its usual neat bun, she could not speak. Harry coughed and nudged Hermione with his elbow.  
  
“May I help you?” her mother asked. Her sharp eyes caught Harry’s not-so-subtle encouragement, and she looked warily at Hermione, waiting for them to explain their presence.  
  
“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” said Hermione. “We lost our cat, and I think it’s gone around the back of your house. I’m terribly sorry, you’re probably at dinner already, but he’s not supposed to be out of doors, and he’s been known to devastate gardens for the fun of it.”  
  
Hermione was not a good liar, but her mother’s eyes softened a great deal once she realized that the young people on her doorstep were not selling anything. She glanced at her flower beds.  
  
“I see. Of course we’ll help you find him. If you wait just a moment, I’ll get my husband and his gloves to help us.”  
  
“Thank you,” said Hermione. Her mother left the door open a crack and walked back into the house, calling for her father.  
  
“Good work, Hermione,” Harry said softly.  
  
Her parents came out seconds later, her father carrying work gloves, looking perturbed.  
  
“Lost a cat, have you?” said her father pleasantly enough, but she knew he was annoyed to have the news interrupted. “What’s he look like?”  
  
Hermione quickly described a small, grey kitten. When she finished, he chuckled.  
  
“I hope Crookshanks hasn’t mistaken him for a mouse and eaten him!” Hermione tried to look appropriately curious and worried.  
  
“Our cat,” her father explained. “Enormous, orange, and perpetually ravenous.”  
  
“Oh, _Wendell,_ stop it!” Her mother shook her head. “Crookshanks is inside sleeping and he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”  
  
Her father led them around the side of the house.  
  
“So, you’re from England... like us,” he said conversationally as they walked, her mother following behind them.  
  
“Er – yes,” said Hermione.  
  
“Where do you come from? Brother and sister, I take it?”  
  
“Actually, no, just friends, visiting before school starts again. I only just moved here.”  
  
Her father glanced back at them, and seemed to communicate something to her mother, who smiled slightly.  
  
“I see. I didn’t know there was anyone new in the neighborhood,” he said lightly, but Hermione’s heart beat faster. They had reached the back of the house, full of flower beds and a small garden, as Hermione knew it would be. Her parents loved gardening.  
  
“Well, go ahead and call him,” said her father. Her mother simply stood with her arms crossed, looking around the yard.  
  
Hermione began calling the imaginary cat and walking about the yard. After a few minutes with no results, her parents and Harry started poking around as well.  
  
“I guess he’s not here,” Hermione said, wondering how she was going to get from that to, 'Hi Mum and Dad, I’m the daughter you don’t remember you have. You see, I’m a witch, and I erased your memories so you would be safe, and so you wouldn’t get me and my friends killed while we tried to save the world.'  
  
Suddenly, an orange blur shot past Harry. The kitty door was still flapping when Crookshanks flopped down in front of Hermione and rolled over her feet, purring loudly. Hermione gasped and jumped back. Crookshanks immediately sat up, and with a meow launched himself at Hermione’s chest, giving her no choice but to wrap her arms around him and let him rub his head on her shoulder.  
  
Her parents were staring openly at her now, as was Harry. She laughed nervously.  
  
“I think he likes me. Crookshanks, was it?” She patted his head. She did not dare try to put him down while his claws were embedded in her shirt.  
  
Her father took a step toward her.  
  
“Okay, boy, let her go.”  
  
He expertly unhooked Crookshanks from Hermione’s clothing and tossed him back inside the house. Then he stood by the door and looked thoughtfully at Hermione.  
  
“I’m sorry about that. I hope you find your cat.” He walked over to where she and Harry stood and offered his hand. “Good luck, kids.” He shook Hermione’s hand. He was sending them away already. This was it.  
  
“Actually, sir,” she said, but her father interrupted her.  
  
“You know, young lady, you could pass for my wife’s sister. The resemblance is uncanny.”  
  
Hermione gulped.  
  
“Er – actually,” she began.  
  
“Ah, but I’m wasting your time! You’ve got a kitten to find. Best be going! No telling where he might be by now.”  
  
He began to usher them around the side of the house. Harry followed him reluctantly. Hermione stopped walking. Her mother stopped beside her.  
  
“Is something wrong, dear?”  
  
Her father turned around.  
  
“I – I… there’s something I have to tell you, Mr. and Mrs., uh,” she realized that she was not supposed to know their names, since they had not yet introduced themselves. Her father took a step toward her, looking concerned, glancing back and forth between Hermione and her mother.  
  
“The truth is I, uh,” said Hermione, trying to slip her wand out of her sleeve, suddenly unable to remember any of the script she had prepared.  
  
Her father stood in front of her, patiently waiting for her to speak. He took her mother’s hand. Hermione could see Harry behind them, trying to make eye contact with her. If she did not speak soon, Harry would. She did not want Harry to do that.  
  
“Hermione.”  
  
She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. It was her father’s hand. Stunned, she looked up at him.  
  
“Dad?”  
  
Hermione’s mother let out a sob and smothered her in a hug.  
  
“You stupid, stupid, girl,” she choked out.  
  
Hermione was dazed. Her mother’s embrace was making it hard to breathe. Her father wrapped his arms around them as well, but was the first to step away.  
  
“How long have you known?” she asked, looking at him, trying to determine whether he was holding back tears or anger.  
  
“Three months,” he said quietly. He was definitely angry, Hermione decided.  
  
Her mother wiped her face with the back of her hand and dabbed at her eyes.  
  
“Mum, Dad… I can’t believe it. How much do you remember?”  
  
“Everything!” said her mother. “I suppose you thought you would just come here and make us remember it all again and it would all be ok? Without giving us the chance to discuss anything with you! You drugged us and then cheerfully informed us that you might die fighting a war!”  
  
Her mother was now hysterical. Telling her parents the truth before she modified their memories might not have been the best idea, but after Hermione had given them a calming draught (which was apparently was more potent for Muggles than for wizards), they had been so compliant that she had told them everything.  
  
So now they knew all her fears and doubts about her mission, about her crush on Ron, her willingness to die fighting Voldemort, Harry’s prophecy, and the danger she had been hiding from them since her first year at Hogwarts. Thinking she might never see them again, she had made the mistake of being completely honest with her parents.  
  
Hermione, Harry, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger went inside. The four of them had a very quiet dinner, her parents asking a lot of questions about the war and saying little in response. After dinner, her mother asked where they were staying and offered to drive them to get their things, but Hermione had brought everything they needed in her beaded purse. Harry got the sofa, and Hermione took the guest room. They all went to bed early, but Hermione could hear her parents talking long after they retired to their room across the hall. She waited until she was sure they were asleep and snuck downstairs to talk to Harry. He was still awake, reading a Quidditch magazine by wand-light. She sat down beside him and sighed heavily.  
  
“So… they’re angry?” he asked.  
  
“Yes,” Hermione said. She fell asleep on the couch while Harry read. Her mother woke her early the next morning.  
  
“Hermione, what are you doing down here?!” she whispered loudly, standing over her. “Are you dating him?”  
  
She pointed to the floor, where Harry slept with a throw pillow under his head. Hermione groaned and jumped off the couch. Her mother followed her into the kitchen.  
  
“ _Well?_ ”  
  
“No, I am not dating Harry! We were just talking last night and I fell asleep on the couch. He should have woken me up.”  
  
Her mother was making tea.  
  
“Oh? What were you talking about?”  
  
“Nothing,” said Hermione. “Actually, we didn’t talk much. I just didn’t want to be alone.”  
  
Her mother didn’t say anything else until the tea was done, and she placed a cup in front of Hermione.  
  
“I’m happy you’re back, Hermione” she said quietly, but her voice shook. Hermione knew she was on the verge of tears. She walked back to the sink, leaned on it, grasping the counter, and looked out the window.  
  
“For over three months, I’ve wondered every day whether you were dead. I didn’t dare contact anyone in Britain because I thought it would put you in danger. I had nightmares that those evil wizards brought your dead body to taunt us before they killed us. I dreamed these things every night for three months, Hermione. I’ve been through hell wondering if my only daughter is still alive, knowing all the while that she would rather die than give up magic – that – that you would rather die than live a normal life with your family. If I had known your teachers placed so little value on your life, you never would have set foot on that damn train, let alone in a school I can’t even see! But I trusted them, McGonagall and Dumbledore. I trusted the man who sent you to hunt a mass murderer! You’re a child! A child, Hermione!”  
  
Hermione was now crying too.  
  
“I thought you would understand,” she said. “I told you about the prophecy… about Harry. I couldn’t let him go alone…”  
  
“Prophecies!” exclaimed her mother angrily, throwing her hands in the air. “First you ask me to believe in magic, and now prophecies! Do you believe in god now, as well? Why not? If you had asked me before all of this happened what I thought was more likely to exist, wizards, or god, I would have said god!”  
  
Hermione’s parents were atheists. Before Hermione had known about magic, she had thought she might be able to perform miracles like the saints the Catholic girl that lived two houses down had talked about. For a brief period around age nine, Hermione had been terrified that god would make her work for him and she would have to tell her parents that they were wrong after all – she had not been sure which would be worse.  
  
Her mother took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry, Hermione. Right now is not the time for this. I’m sorry I upset you.”  
  
Hermione sipped her tea and nodded. Her father came downstairs and sat across from her.  
  
“Good morning, Monica... Hermione,” he said wryly, opening the paper.  
  
Hermione tried to smile at him.  
  
“Stop it, Jim!” snapped her mother. “It’s not funny. What possessed you to use _their_ names, Hermione, I’ll never know…”  
  
Monica and Wendell Wilkins were her mother’s cousins who lived in America. They were professional clowns. Her mother didn’t like them because whenever they came to visit they overstayed their welcome and were always asking for money.  
  
“I happen to like our names, Ellen. You’re looking more and more like a Monica these days.”  
  
“Humph. In this house, I answer to Ellen, and I refuse to use the name Wendell in reference to anyone with half a brain, _Mr. Wilkins._ ”  
  
Her father laughed. “Everyone at the office thinks you’re crazy, you know, ever since you told them that my nickname is Jim.”  
  
Her mother answered him with a short laugh as she sat down, but did not smile.  
  
Her parents later explained that it was their fake names that had helped them recover their memories. Hermione’s mother began to feel that she hated her name, but she did not know why. For months, she had flinched whenever someone called her ‘Monica’. Finally, she remembered that she knew a Monica, and eventually it came to her that it was her annoying cousin from America. Two days later, all of her memories were back. It had taken her two weeks to convince her husband of the truth, during which he had tried unsuccessfully to take her to a shrink. The return of her father’s memories had been triggered by seeing Hermione’s mother cradling Crookshanks in her arms by the window. It had been one of his last memories of Hermione.  
  
Harry stayed with the Grangers for a week, and Hermione was grateful for his company, as her parents worked during the day. She and Harry went sightseeing and spent three days exploring the wizards’ shops in Sydney. Australian wizards wore much brighter robes than those in Britain, and it seemed that patterns were currently all the rage down under. It was nice to be away from her parents’ house, and to be distracted from her thoughts.  
  
Ellen and Jim, however, were not such gracious hosts to Harry. Hermione knew they wanted to have a real discussion with Hermione, or rather a full-blown argument, but they would not do it in front of Harry. Harry was her buffer.  
  
Her father ignored Harry for the most part, but was cordial when forced to acknowledge him. Her mother talked to him more often, but her conversation was laced with thinly-veiled hostility. At the end of the first week, Harry told Hermione that he though he should leave. Hermione agreed that it was time for him to go. She could not avoid her parents forever.  
  
Harry left on a Saturday morning. Her parents waited until Sunday afternoon to confront her. What they said was not what Hermione expected to hear. They wanted to talk about her plans for the future. Hermione had already told them that she would finish her seventh year at Hogwarts, but she had no real plans after that. Further study, an apprenticeship, perhaps, but she had not yet decided which subjects she would continue, and whether she wanted to teach.  
  
“What do you mean, you haven’t decided yet? Hermione, if you had gone to a real school you would already know these things! You would have planned it years ago! Are there no wizard universities?”  
  
Hermione explained that Hogwarts was one of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, and that by the end of her seventh year she would have completed roughly the equivalent of a year or two at university in the Muggle system.  
  
“After that, there are training programs for all kinds of careers. For example, Harry has to go another three years in the Auror program after he graduates, and then he’ll be guaranteed a job at the ministry.”  
  
Hermione did not mention the fact that Harry was guaranteed a job doing anything he wanted, thanks to saving the world from Voldemort.  
  
“Hermione,” her mother said. “This is not about Harry. You don’t want to be an Auror. How are you going to make a living as a witch?” She laughed a little. “Stand over a cauldron all day, making magic potions?”  
  
“Ellen,” her father intoned gently, silencing her. “Hermione, what your mother is trying to say is that we are concerned about your future. You have so much promise, such a brilliant mind – such an _academic_ mind – that it seems like it would be wasted by living as a witch.”  
  
Hermione felt like she had been slapped. Her parents had always supported her desire to live as a witch and integrate into the magical world.  
  
“Wh- what? Wasted? Dad, I don’t understand.”  
  
“We think you should apply to some Universities. Think of the opportunities you would have once you graduated!”  
  
“What opportunities? A Muggle degree is about as useless in the wizarding world as a wand would be to you!” Hermione was getting angry now.  
  
“You might not always want to live as a witch,” said her mother sharply. “It might become too dangerous. There might come a time when you _have_ to live in the real world, and then where will you be? Hermione… you could do so much with your life. You could make history!”  
  
Hermione laughed.  
  
“I’ve already made history! Have you been listening to what Harry and I said all week? We’re so famous we can hardly go out in public!”  
  
Her mother sighed and looked at her father.  
  
“Hermione, in the real world,” she noticed Hermione’s raised eyebrow and corrected herself. “In _our_ world – you will never accomplish anything. You will not exist. This is the world that matters, the world of the un-magical masses! Where are the wizard scientists, poets, philosophers, and artists? What great things have wizards contributed to human history? Will you ignore the rest of the world like the wizards do? You could do anything you want, anything… things we ordinary humans can only dream of… you could change the world.”  
  
Hermione knew that her mother was thinking of her own decision to become a dentist. She had always regretted not studying literature and chasing her dream of becoming a writer. Hermione sighed.  
  
“I’ve helped save the world already. Isn’t that enough?”  
  
That silenced them on the subject for the evening, but the next night her parents asked her to consider a compromise. They did not want her to cut all ties to Muggle society. They wanted her to go to university, make Muggle friends, and get some distance from the war and the fame that followed her in the magical world. Hermione said she would think about it, but she never really considered it. She could not live as a Muggle. It would be like living every day with one arm tied behind her back and her eyes closed. She had no desire to make a name for herself in the non-magical world. International fame as a witch was more than enough.  
  
The week was filled with long silences. Hermione yearned to be back at Hogwarts. She hated the house in Australia. She hated the way her parents looked at her, the way they watched her. She was a stranger to them. She had never told them the whole truth about her life as a witch. Hermione had felt like a stranger to her parents for years, but now they felt it too. At the end of the second week, Hermione told them she was going back to London to prepare to return to Hogwarts.  
  
They accepted it without argument, but they were disappointed. They did not understand why Hermione wanted to reject their world completely, and they thought it was foolish to do so. To them, she was not a witch. She was a Muggle who happened to have magical abilities.  
  
Her parents said they would not move back to Britain immediately, but they expected to return by the time Hermione finished at Hogwarts.  
  
“I’ll write regularly, I promise,” said Hermione, hugging them goodbye.  
  
Her mother rolled her eyes.  
  
“Of course you will. You always write regularly, Hermione. I hope this year will be as uneventful as always, only this time, please let it be the truth!”


	2. Horatia Bartram

“And one more thing, Minerva...”  
  
Severus paused, frowning at the spot on his desk where he was sure his quill had been, lying on top of an untidy stack of letters.  
  
“Yes, Severus?”  
  
Severus tossed a roll of parchment aside irritably, not bothering to look up as he spoke. He needed to organize his desk.  
  
“Have the house-elves clean the Sorting Hat. It has begun to smell.”  
  
“Indeed?” asked McGonagall, walking over to the cabinet where the hat was kept. She opened the door slightly, coughed, and slammed it shut again.  
  
“Consider it done, Severus. If that’s all…”  
  
“Yes. Thank you, Minerva,” said Severus, as he quickly cleared off his desk. Fawkes was swooping about the room, landing every now and then on a windowsill. He made a playful snatch at McGonagall’s hat as she left.  
  
“Fawkes,” Severus intoned. “You have chosen a most inconvenient time to show off.”  
  
Finally, Severus found the sealed letter that had arrived that morning. It was from Draco.  
  
 _Professor Snape,  
  
I hope it is not too late to rescind my previous decision to discontinue my education at Hogwarts. I wish to complete my seventh year and earn my N.E.W.T.s before I graduate. I realize you must be very busy at this time, so unless I hear otherwise from you, I will assume you have no objection and will see you at the start of term.  
  
D. Malfoy_  
  
Severus thought Draco’s decision to return to Hogwarts probably had something to do with the fact that Lucius had received a longer sentence in Azkaban than the family had expected, and Draco a much shorter one of a few weeks. Narcissa had only served two months, and she still suffered from the experience. She spent her days locked away in the manor, tended to by their numerous house-elves.  
  
Though they were well-known active Death Eaters in the second war, Narcissa and Draco had been deemed victims of the Dark Lord by the Wizengot. Narcissa had resisted in whatever small ways she could, and had the memories to prove it. For years, she had tried to keep Draco from following in his father’s footsteps, but when Voldemort wanted something, he got it, and he had wanted Draco. Observers at the trial had been brought to tears by Narcissa’s memories of pleading with Lucius to find a way to protect Draco. Lucius had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban.  
  
Severus penned a quick response to Draco.  
  
 _Your commitment to your education is commendable under such circumstances. I look forward to seeing you in a few days.  
  
My best to your mother,  
  
S. S._  
  
It would not be easy for Draco, but even the unfriendly halls of Hogwarts would be a welcome change if he was spending his days at the Manor with Narcissa. It would also be better for him to finish his schooling and become a repentant, successful wizard than for him to live off his family’s money and avoid all good society.  
  
Severus began to organize his desk, wondering if Narcissa would allow him to pay her a visit. She was angry with him for refusing to lie for Lucius to get him a shorter prison sentence. Severus had a soft spot for Narcissa and her son, but he hated Lucius Malfoy. He had been the James Potter of Slytherin house; arrogant and popular, a Quidditch star. They only time he had taken notice of Severus was to criticize him or mock him. He never did it in front of the other houses, since that would violate one of Slytherin’s most important codes. In front of others, he had simply ignored Severus.  
  
Severus had threatened Lucius from the beginning when he came to the school, poor, unkempt, and socially inept, yet knowing more about Dark magic than any pureblood Slytherin first year. Lucius had put Severus under his foot that first year and kept him there until he left Hogwarts. Once, and only once, Severus had heard Narcissa stand up for him.  
  
“What the matter, Lucius? Are you afraid that a second year is smarter than you? Well, you know what, I think he is! Severus Snape is smarter than you!”  
  
After that speech, Lucius had broken up with her for a month. She had stopped eating and had to be sent to the infirmary. When Lucius came to visit her, she had apologized to him. Severus had overheard it, as he was in the infirmary recovering from a potions “accident” involving Potter. The next day, Lucius and Narcissa were a couple once again. It was rumored that their marriage had been arranged from infancy, though Narcissa vehemently denied it. She really loved Lucius, for reasons yet unknown to Severus.  
  
Severus sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. His respite did not last long. It was interrupted a few minutes later by McGonagall’s return.  
  
“Severus,” she said wearily, waiting for him to open his eyes.  
  
“Yes, Minerva?”  
  
“Horatia Bartram had arrived. I’ve sent her things to her quarters, but I thought you would like to meet her before you, ah, became too busy.”  
  
Severus sat up and straightened his robes.  
  
“Send her in.”  
  
McGonagall disappeared and moments later a tall witch stood in her place. She was very pale, and wore a light grey robe. If not for her dark hair and red lipstick, she could have been mistaken for a ghost.  
  
“Ms. Bartram,” he said languidly. “Please, take a seat.”  
  
Horatia Bartram smiled and walked gracefully across the room, taking the chair opposite Severus. She seemed to be amused by something.  
  
“Professor Snape, you don’t remember me.”  
  
Severus had never seen the woman before in his life, having hired her on McGonagall’s recommendation without even an interview.  
  
“You taught me Potions,” she said, filling the silence. “You were also my head of house.”  
  
Severus scowled at her.  
  
“Ms. Bartram, I have neither the time nor the inclination to reminisce about your school days. I am aware that you attended Hogwarts. The house you were in is irrelevant to your position.”  
  
She laughed.  
  
“Forgive me, Professor, I do not want to waste your time, but I had hoped you would remember me. I confess I allowed you to be misled. I was Horatia Langley.”  
  
Her familiar tone irritated Severus. He still did not recognize her, and she had the audacity to act like they were old friends.  
  
“Ah – I see. You neglected to inform me that you were married. Spouses and family are not normally permitted to reside within the castle. However, your husband may stay with you until you are able to find a residence nearby.”  
  
Ms. Bartram was still amused, it seemed.  
  
“Thank you, Professor, but that will not be necessary. I am not married. Bartram was my mother’s maiden name, which I took some years ago.”  
  
Severus did not like Horatia Bartram. She was not intimidated by him, which meant she was likely an arrogant fool.  
  
“Remind me, how long ago did you attend Hogwarts, Ms. Bartram?”  
  
“We came to Hogwarts in the same year Professor. You were the youngest head of house in 210 years, and I was a first-year Slytherin.”  
  
“Why, then, did you not complete Auror training until 1995?”  
  
Bartram was caught off guard by the question, and she frowned slightly, no doubt disappointed that Severus had still not remembered her.  
  
“I hadn’t planned on becoming an Auror. After I graduated I took some time off. There were things I needed to escape. I traveled,” she said. “Australia, France, and Spain. One year in London. After that, three years in Auror training, and I’ve been at the Ministry ever since.”  
  
“Did you gain any useful experience in your travels, Ms. Bartram?”  
  
She laughed and gave him an incredulous look.  
  
“Is this an interview, Professor? I was under the impression I already had this job. Forgive me. I should have come in more professional attire.”  
  
She was wearing a sheer, delicate summer robe and thong sandals. Her hair fell past her shoulders, loose and untamed.  
  
“Yes, Ms. Bartram, this is an interview. It is a pity you did not come prepared, as you have yet to convince me that I would not be better off letting the first years teach themselves.”  
  
Horatia Bartram smiled obligingly.  
  
“I graduated top of my class at Hogwarts and consistently had the highest test scores of any Auror in my training program. Professor McGonagall read my reports and seemed to find them impressive. While it is true that I lack teaching experience, I do not think it will be that great an obstacle. I know how to deal with children.”  
  
“Do you care to elaborate on that last point?”  
  
“I was the oldest of five children born to irresponsible parents,” she said. “I taught the two youngest how to read.”  
  
Her smile faded under his impassive scrutiny, and she briefly pressed her lips together in annoyance. Severus continued the interrogation.  
  
“Why did you take this job, Ms. Bartram? No other Aurors were interested, not when the Ministry is handing out promotions like sweets. Surely your superior performance would have guaranteed you a higher position in the department.”  
  
“I’ve always wanted to come back to Hogwarts,” she said thoughtfully. “I took this job because I thought I would enjoy teaching here, and because I want the experience. How many people can say they’ve taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? You’re right, of course. I could have applied for a promotion. I would have gotten it, but I am not interested in the title, or the power, or even the money. In fact, I may never return to the Ministry.”  
  
Severus stood. The light coming from the window behind him cast a shadow over her. She looked up at him without blinking. Her eyes were the same pale grey as her robe. _Pureblood eyes,_ thought Severus. _Just like the Malfoys._  
  
In fact, she exhibited every desired pureblood trait: icy grey eyes, dark hair, and clear, pale skin. Langley was not a pureblood surname, and he had never heard of any Bartrams either… Severus realized he had been staring at her for some time, the silence stretching on.  
  
“I would advise you to be better prepared for your first classes than you were for this meeting... Professor Bartram.”  
  
She stood as he stepped around the desk, and they shook hands.  
  
“I will do my best, Headmaster,” she said seriously – too seriously. She was mocking him.  
  
It was then that Severus remembered Horatia Langley. The girl he remembered was nothing like the self-assured, attractive woman who had just left his office. He could not recall her features, just the memory of a gangly teen with her hair constantly in her face. He had once reprimanded her for letting it hang over her cauldron.  
  
Severus did not know why Horatia Bartram was leaving the Ministry, but he did not believe it was because she really thought teaching at Hogwarts was a better opportunity. She seemed to believe teaching would come easily for her. She might soon wish to be back at the Ministry.  
  
With only two days until the students arrived, Severus was too busy to worry about Bartram’s motives. No matter the reason, she was here, and he needed a Defense teacher for the lower levels. He was still waiting for the Ministry to approve Kingsley Shacklebolt’s request for part time leave so that he could teach Defense to the upper years. It had been McGonagall’s idea, and it was a good one. If Shacklebolt could not work something out with his superiors, Severus would teach the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. It was not uncommon for a Hogwarts headmaster to teach the advanced students, especially at times when enrollment was low.  
  
Enrollment was quite low. Many students were not returning to Hogwarts after the war. Some, especially Slytherins, were seeking education elsewhere. Some were still in hiding with their families. Others, having passed their O.W.L.s, were already seeking employment.  
  
The O.W.L.s would be given twice in the upcoming year, once at the start of term and once at the end as usual. Rising sixth years would sit the O.W.L.s before being placed into the appropriate classes. Students who needed to sit the N.E.W.T.s would have to wait until the end of the year. Those who had been at Hogwarts for their seventh year were not required to repeat the classes, though it was strongly recommended that they repeat the curriculum before taking their N.E.W.T.s. Muggle-borns and others who had fled Hogwarts would have to repeat the year they missed unless they appealed to their heads of house, who were responsible for the advanced placement of individual students.  
  
Severus had been unpleasantly surprised to receive confirmation of attendance from Potter and Weasley. No doubt they had already been offered their pick of positions from the Ministry and every Quidditch team in Europe. Perhaps Granger had talked them into returning with her. She had always been much more invested in their education than they were.  
  
The last time Severus saw Hermione, she had been walking down to the school gates with Potter. He had not asked her where she was going, but assumed she was staying with the Weasleys. Perhaps she had gone to straight to Australia to find her parents. Wherever she was, she was putting her life back together.  
  
Severus sat down and pulled a scrap of parchment from his desk. It was a list from the heads of house of their nominees for head girl and boy. He had a second list of names from the rest of the faculty and staff; however, there would be no voting. It was Severus’ decision to make. Severus had only asked for nominees to appease McGonagall. She wanted Potter for head boy and she had harassed Severus constantly about the decision. At last, he had told her the decision would not be made until the start of term, after the other faculty had presented their own candidates.  
  
Severus had no intention of making Potter head boy, but it was better to stall than to tell Minerva outright. She would be most unhelpful if she was in a snit over Potter, not to mention irritating as hell.  
  
Severus scanned the lists of nominees, starting with the staff nominees. Filch had nominated Mrs. Norris for head girl and written ‘none’ under the boy’s column. Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, Christopher Garrett, and Ernie Macmillan were Potter’s competition, almost all Gryffindors, of course. Surprisingly, ‘Harry Potter’ only appeared once on the list, scrawled across the page in Hagrid’s hand along with Hermione's. Severus turned to the list of nominees from the heads of house: Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, Anthony Goldstein and Luna Lovegood, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, and Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. McGonagall had not nominated Hermione.  
  
When Severus had asked her why, she had looked a bit sheepish.  
  
“Miss Weasley displayed great leadership abilities last year. She would have been my choice for head girl this year, under normal circumstances. Hermione has been through a lot, and if I may speak for her, I believe she would prefer to immerse herself in her studies without the added responsibilities of being head girl. Her obsessive attention to detail and tendency to overachieve would not only drive the prefects mad, it would end with her taking over some of their responsibilities for them.”  
  
It was then that Severus realized something about McGonagall. She was not blind to all of her own students’ faults – just to Potter’s. She probably got teary-eyed when she imagined the second-generation golden couple as head boy and girl.  
  
McGonagall was still talking about the Weasley girl.  
  
“… no one better prepared for the position. Hannah Abbott, perhaps; she’s a good, smart girl, but not a leader. I stand by my choice; Granger would do well, but Weasley would do better. She is well-liked by the other houses and the younger students, thanks to her work on the Quidditch pitch.”  
  
“Really, Minerva, I wasn’t aware that it was a popularity contest,” said Severus.  
  
Severus did not have much against the Weasley girl, other than her involvement with Potter, and her unfortunate relatives. She had been the most frequent visitor to Hermione’s bedside. She was a good student, and had not caused trouble in his classroom.  
  
But Severus would not choose Ginny Weasley. McGonagall was wrong; Hermione would not want less responsibility, especially not when it came with loss of a much-coveted title. Severus refused to give it to her popular, Quidditch-playing friend. Hermione would be head girl. He owed her that much. He owed her his life.


	3. Head Girl

“Harry, do you see – ?”  
  
Hermione’s words were drowned out by laughter coming from a particularly loud compartment they were passing on the train. Hermione stopped and peered at the students inside, confirming her suspicions.  
  
Ron was seated next to Padma, his arm slung around her shoulders. His face was red from laughing.  
  
“Come on, Hermione,” said Harry curtly, moving quickly past her. “The next one’s empty.”  
  
Just then, Ginny opened the compartment and almost ran into Hermione.  
  
“Hello, Hermione,” she said. “Sorry, there’s no room in here – Dean took the last spot, and Parvati’s already sitting on Anthony’s lap. I’ll, uh, see you at Hogwarts?”  
  
“Sure,” said Hermione. “I was going to sit with Harry anyway.”  
  
Ginny made no comment. She returned to the compartment, where she sat next to Dean Thomas.  
  
Hermione and Harry took the next compartment and were soon joined by Neville and Luna, who were reading back issues of _The Quibbler_ together, holding Luna’s lit wand between them. It was dark in the compartment, thanks to dreary weather, and the unrelenting rain had made Hermione’s hair frizzier than ever. She pulled it back into a bun and charmed it viciously into place.  
  
Harry was not in the mood to talk, so Hermione pulled out a book to read while he tossed a rubber replica of a Snitch around, bouncing it off the wall that separated their compartment from Ginny and Ron’s.  
  
“I’m surprised to see you, Harry,” said Neville after a while. “Gran said the Ministry was sure to set you up with a job straight away.”  
  
Luna had decided to nap against Neville’s shoulder, though Hermione could not tell if she was really asleep because she was wearing dark sunglasses with fluorescent green rims that glowed faintly in the dim light.  
  
“Er – yeah, they did,” said Harry. “It was Hermione that convinced me to finish at Hogwarts. I'm still going to go through Auror training. Don’t know how long I’ll last with Snape as headmaster this year, though.”  
  
“At least we won’t have him in class,” said Neville. “I wonder who he got to teach Defense.”  
  
“You know...” Hermione interrupted without looking up from her book. “He might teach it himself. It says in _Hogwarts: a History_ that traditionally, headmasters and headmistresses still teach their subjects after assuming headship.”  
  
Harry and Neville were speechless; both wore the same look of horror.  
  
“Brilliant,” said Harry. “And here I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.”  
  
Neville sighed heavily, causing Luna’s head to roll off his shoulder. She sat up and seemed to look straight at Harry.  
  
“Snarffalump!” she exclaimed, then yawned and curled up in her seat, using Neville’s school robe as a pillow.  
  
“Er – ” Harry said. “Is she all right?”  
  
Neville just shrugged.  
  
“That’s nothing. When we were in Australia this summer we went for a lovely moonlit walk on the beach. It was twenty minutes before I realized she was sleepwalking. And – er – sleep talking.”  
  
A little while later Neville had fallen asleep as well, and Hermione had grown tired of reading her Arithmancy text. She put it back in her bag.  
  
“Dean’s over there,” said Harry, bouncing the ball against the wall again. “With them.”  
  
“I saw,” said Hermione neutrally. “We’ll probably be seeing a lot more of him this year. I don’t think Seamus is coming back.”  
  
“Oh...” said Harry, staring at the wall. He threw the ball harder.  
  
“I heard he’s opening a Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley with his uncle.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
Harry threw the ball so hard that it nearly hit him in the face on the way back. He caught it before it smashed into his glasses and held it there. Somebody from the other compartment banged on the wall.  
  
“Cut it out over there!” came Ron’s muffled voice.  
  
Harry was still holding the ball in front of his face, glaring at the wall.  
  
“Harry – ”  
  
“Wake me when we’re close,” he said, pocketing the ball. He lay down with his face to the wall and was soon asleep. Hermione spent the rest of the trip staring out of the window at the rain.  
  
By the time she woke up Harry, Neville, and Luna, the rain had stopped, though thick clouds still covered the sky, making the night blacker than it should have been.  
  
The four of them rode up to the castle together. Harry was still bleary-eyed from his nap on the train. He kept glancing back to where Ginny, Dean, Ron, and Padma followed two carriages behind, looking quite cozy.  
  
“Harry, I don’t think – ”  
  
“Hermione, just – don’t say anything. Please.”  
  
Neville and Luna pretended not to have heard anything and started talking about the magical properties of powdered newt skin, which Luna claimed could be used to catch tree pixies.  
  
They were soon inside the Great Hall, scrambling for places at their respective tables. Hermione chose a seat across from some second year girls. The noise grew as the rest of the students filed in. Ginny and Ron sat farther down the table, and the rest of the sixth and seventh years joined them. Ron was seated next to Dean. Ginny sat across from them, beside Parvati, who seemed to be complimenting Ginny’s new hairstyle. Ginny smiled and flipped her sleek, straightened hair over her shoulder.  
  
“Wow, she’s so pretty,” said one of the second-year girls. Hermione glanced over at them. They were not talking about Ginny. A tall witch in deep green robes had just entered with the Professors, walking behind tiny Professor Flitwick. She was strikingly beautiful. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose chignon, with sculpted waves that shone the candlelight, which Hermione suspected was the result of a subtle scintillating charm.  
  
“She must be the new DADA professor,” she said to Harry.  
  
“I don’t think so,” said Harry.  
  
“Why not? A woman can’t teach Defense?” asked Hermione, offended by Harry’s dismissive tone of voice.  
  
“That’s not what I meant, Hermione. Look.”  
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt was now seated at the high table as well, right beside the witch in question.  
  
“What else would Shacklebolt teach? She’s probably Muggle Studies.”  
  
Hermione made a noncommittal noise and continued watching the high table. Shacklebolt and the witch in green seemed to know one another, or at any rate Shacklebolt looked very much like he wanted to get to know her.  
  
“Where’s Snape?” Harry asked, just seconds before Professor Snape made his entrance, closing the door behind him firmly so that the sound echoed through the hall. It was suddenly much quieter. All eyes were on the headmaster, and a pervasive feeling of awe, fear, and curiosity was in the air, or so Hermione imagined. She only felt vaguely uncomfortable, as if she were the only one not under the spell.  
  
Professor Snape slowly made his way to his place at the table. He did not look as dour as he normally did at the start of term feast, but his expression was unreadable. He swept his robes back dramatically and sat down, signaling McGonagall to bring the first-years in.  
  
After the usual song and ceremony, five trembling first-years joined the Gryffindor table. McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat on the head of “Warscobbins, Eddy,” a tiny freckled girl with bouncy red ringlets, who was sorted into Gryffindor as well.  
  
Professor Snape stood solemnly and led the applause after the sorting, his sharp black eyes moving from table to table, where Hogwarts' newest members now sat looking relieved and famished. Hermione looked down at her hands when he turned his gaze to Gryffindor. Even though she knew he was just memorizing the faces of the first years a few seats away, she did not want to be caught staring. She did not know who she would see looking back at her. Would it be the headmaster or the man who had read by her bedside?  
  
“Welcome to Hogwarts, first years, and to the rest of you, welcome back. In the spirit of years past, we will forgo the announcements until after our meal.”  
  
He raised his hands and the feast appeared on the tables in all its usual mouth-watering glory. Hermione filled her plate with roast and carrots, her stomach grumbling with renewed hunger. Harry piled food onto his plate absently. His attention was still focused on a certain red-haired girl a few seats away.  
  
“Harry,” Hermione said, elbowing him.  
  
“What?” Harry stopped and looked stupidly at the small mountain of potatoes he had spooned onto his plate.  
  
“Hungry, are you?” she asked.  
  
“Er – yeah, really hungry,” said Harry, dropping the serving spoon and picking up his fork.  
  
Harry was not in the best of moods, which was to be expected, but Hermione was tired of trying to distract him from Ginny and Ron.  
  
“So, Neville,” she said pleasantly, leaning around Harry, who was hunched over his plate. “Which N.E.W.T.s are you taking?”  
  
Neville leaned around Harry as well, holding a roll in his hand, which began to drip butter onto his sleeve as he spoke.  
  
“Herbology, of course, Charms, Defense, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic.”  
  
“Wow, Neville… that’s going to be a lot of work. And… History of Magic?”  
  
Neville shrugged.  
  
“I figure it doesn’t hurt to try for an extra N.E.W.T. or two. I’ve always liked magical history. I mean, Binns is dreadful, but it's my second best subject.”  
  
Hermione found it hard to believe that anyone would bother with a History of Magic N.E.W.T., even if they loved the subject. Binns did not teach anything that could not be found with some independent research in the library.  
  
“I didn’t realize you had continued Care of Magical Creatures as well,” she said. In fact, she had not heard of anyone continuing the subject beyond fifth year.  
  
“Oh, well, I didn’t take it sixth year,” said Neville. “But I’ve been thinking I might like to teach, and you really need at least four N.E.W.T.s for that. Besides, there’s a lot in Care of Magical Creatures that overlaps with Herbology, and it's actually sort of fascinating at times…”  
  
Neville was watching Hermione for some sign of approval. She had been trying to imagine just how dangerous a N.E.W.T.-level class with Hagrid would be and what it might entail: hatching dragons in the Forbidden Forest, perhaps, or babysitting Grawp. She quickly arranged her face into what she hoped was an encouraging smile.  
  
“That sounds like a good plan, Neville. Hagrid will be happy to have you. I don’t think he ever really forgave us for dropping his subject.”  
  
“Yeah,” Neville agreed. “Luna’s taking it with me. I think we might be the only ones.”  
  
Hermione intended to continue with Charms, Defense, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, more classes than any other student in her year. Harry would have Charms, Defense, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions, all the required N.E.W.T.s for the Auror program. Ron and Ginny would be in all of Harry’s classes, since they also wanted to enter the Auror program. Hermione doubted whether either of them would actually become Aurors. The last she had heard, both of them wanted to play professional Quidditch.  
  
Once the meal was over, Professor Snape made the usual announcements about curfew and the Forbidden Forrest in such a grave manner that the first years looked like they would afraid to step foot outside of the castle walls for at least a few weeks.  
  
“And now, a few introductions,” said Snape. “We are fortunate to have Kingsley Shacklebolt with us this evening. He will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts to the fifth, sixth, and seventh year students, in addition to his work at the Ministry. We also welcome Horatia Bartram, a former Auror, who will fill in for the rest of the Defense classes. Muggle studies will be taught by Margaret White…”  
  
A group of second-year Hufflepuffs had begun whispering to one another. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at them and they quieted.  
  
“…who could not be here this evening, but will join us next week. For now, let us welcome Professors Shacklebolt and Bartram.”  
  
The name Margaret White sounded familiar to Hermione, but even her encyclopedic memory was drawing a blank. She thought it strange that Professor Snape had not said anything about her. Hermione tried not to think about Professor Burbage.  
  
“Schedules will be handed out at breakfast in the morning. First years will report to their prefects a half hour before breakfast for a tour of the school. Which brings us to the next order of business. As some of you are undoubtedly already aware, prefects have not yet been announced.”  
  
Snape looked from table to table again.  
  
“When your name is called, come to the front to collect your badges. I will then announce the names of the head boy and girl for the year.”  
  
Hermione had not known that prefects were yet unannounced. She had been disappointed when she had not received a prefect’s badge before the start of term, but had reasoned that it would not be fair to the younger students if those repeating a year had been allowed to keep their prefect spots.  
  
Ginny was called up to collect a prefect’s badge. Neither Ron nor Hermione was made a prefect again; however, Neville was, and so was Hannah Abbott, and they were repeating the seventh year. Hermione’s heart beat faster. There was still a chance... she held her breath and tried not to tap her foot impatiently while waiting for the final announcement.  
  
Snape waited for the Slytherin prefects, who had been called last, to return to their seats.  
  
“This year’s head boy and girl will be... Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, and Hermione Granger of Gryffindor.”  
  
There was applause as the two made their way to the front to collect their badges from Professor McGonagall. Grinning at one another, they reverently pinned their prizes to the front of their robes. Professor Snape clapped along with the students, staring at Hermione so intensely that he might have been trying to hear her thoughts.  
  
 _Thank you,_ she thought in his direction.  
  
He probably had not heard it. She was too distracted by the noise and her own excitement to think clearly.  
  
Snape blinked once at her and looked away, turning his attention back to the students, who, having given Ernie and Hermione their due congratulations, were already beginning to talk and laugh.  
  
“A few more moments of your time,” Snape intoned, waiting for the chatter to die down. “First years will follow the prefects to your respective dormitories. No students are to be in the halls after dinner this evening. Use the time to unpack and prepare for your first day of classes.”  
  
Professor Snape raised his hands again, in a manner very reminiscent of Dumbledore.  
  
“You are dismissed.”  
  
The chatter commenced once again, now punctuated by the scraping of benches.  
  
“Congratulations, Hermione,” said Harry quietly. They walked slowly out of the hall, hanging back from the rest of the seventh years. Neville was a few steps ahead of them.  
  
“Thanks, Harry,” she said, touching her badge lightly. “You’re not upset, are you? I mean, about never getting to be a prefect?”  
  
Harry gave a short laugh.  
  
“No. I don’t think I’d like being a prefect this year anyway.”  
  
Hermione followed his gaze to the back of Ginny’s head.  
  
“I think Ron’s angry though, because Neville's a prefect and he's not,” said Harry.  
  
Hermione agreed with him. Not that Ron ever paid much attention to Neville, but he had conspicuously looked the other way when Ginny said, “Well done, Neville, this year will be so much easier for us, won’t it?”  
  
Hermione felt sorry for Neville, as she often had over the years. It had always been Hermione’s opinion that Neville had a secret crush on Ginny. Most of the guys at school had crushes on Ginny, but Neville probably loved her by now. There had been one time, in the library, when Hermione had caught him watching her from behind a bookshelf with an expression that could only have been described as longing.  
  
“Hermione, look at Malfoy.”  
  
Harry nudged her arm, and she followed his gaze. Draco Malfoy was standing apart from the rest of his house, watching the first years follow Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott out of the Great Hall. There were dark circles under his eyes. His thin, angular face looked even thinner than usual, and his hair was limp and dull.  
  
“He looks bad,” she remarked. “Really bad.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Harry. “Guess that’s what Azkaban does to a person. I saw him on the train earlier, sitting in an empty compartment.”  
  
“Hmm, perhaps he’s finally had enough of Pansy,” said Hermione, watching the Slytherin girl sidle up to her unofficial boyfriend of four years. Draco jumped when she touched his arm, and looked quite irritated. Pansy whispered something slyly into his ear and started to massage his shoulders, her long nails digging possessively into his school robe. Draco just scowled and shrugged away from her.  
  
“I can’t believe she had the nerve to come back here,” Hermione said, enjoying the look of shock on Pansy's face as Draco walked away.  
  
Hermione spent the evening just as Professor Snape had suggested, unpacking her things and looking through the texts for her classes. Harry had not stayed long in the common room before heading to the dormitory. After he left, Hermione had exchanged pleasantries with Ginny, who was being shadowed by Parvati. Lavender hung around them in a cloud of perfume that reminded Hermione of Professor Trelawney. It was apparent that she did not like sharing her best friend with Ginny.  
  
Parvati talked incessantly about her boyfriend, Anthony Goldstein, a tall, curly-haired Ravenclaw who didn't talk much, unless it was to make some sudden, unexpectedly witty remark. He had always been known as the kid who threw up on Filch's boots during his first detention. After fifth year his spots had cleared up, and he had grown into his gangly appendages, earning him a place on Lavender's infamous “Hogwarts' Hottest” list.  
  
Lavender, despite having many admirers, was not dating anyone at Hogwarts. She had met a Quidditch player at a pub in London over the summer, and was interested in no one else.  
  
“Breck Kelly. Beater for the Ballycastle Bats. He's ad-DOR-able. We went out three nights in a row before he had to leave for training.”  
  
“Nice,” said Ginny dispassionately. “Are you sure he hasn't already got a girlfriend, or three?”  
  
“Huh, no. Well, he did. But they broke up. She left him for his best mate, apparently.”  
  
“Oh, how awful,” said Parvati.  
  
“And his friend wasn't even attractive! He showed me a picture of them. She was gorgeous, of course, but then, Breck says she's had some work done... transfiguration of the nose...”  
  
Hermione slipped out without waiting to hear Lavender's critique of the former girlfriend's every feature.  
  
The head girl's room was modest in size and furnished almost as sparsely as the dormitories, with a standard gold and crimson draped four poster bed and a small closet. She had her own gilt-edged full-length mirror that hung on the wall and a desk with a crimson cushioned chair. There were two doors on opposite walls, one of which opened to the Gryffindor common room, and the other into the hall just outside the Fat Lady's portrait. Outside each door there was a tiny sitting room with a settee, an arm chair, and a coffee table.  
  
Not only were the sitting rooms were identical, they were, in fact, the same room. Hermione had discovered it when she had stayed in the head girl's room over the summer. She had put a book on the table in the first room and opened the door to the second to find it laying on the table where she had left it. At the time, she had been too worried about Professor Snape to wonder about the mechanics of such a charm.  
  
Hermione propped open the door that led to the hall and went to pull the other one open. She found herself looking directly into the common room. Romilda Vane stared back at Hermione, startled by her sudden appearance in the doorway.  
  
“Er – sorry,” Hermione said quickly and shut the door again. _What an inconvenient set-up,_ she thought. She assumed the little room was where she was to meet with students, should they want to talk to her privately, but why must it be in two places instead of one? Perhaps it was just one of Hogwart's strange quirks, or perhaps some previous faculty member with a talent for charms had wanted to show off.  
  
Hermione climbed into bed, feeling unsettled, a feeling that had been growing since seeing Professor Snape again – Professor Snape, who only a few weeks earlier had tried to convince her to leave him lying in the infirmary like a living statue and get on with her life. Professor Snape, with whom she had shared a mysterious connection that had forced him to stay by her side until the curse was able to take him instead of Hermione. Professor Snape, whom she had inexplicably been able to save with a kiss.  
  
Nobody knew about the kiss, of course, but the rumors about the Professor and herself had never completely died. Earlier that evening Lavender had said that Hermione was only head girl because of her 'special' relationship with the headmaster. Hermione had to wonder if there was not some truth to the accusation. Professor Snape had certainly never had a very high opinion of her before.  
  
Despite the rumors and the incomprehensible kiss that still did not seem real, there was nothing romantic or inappropriate about their relationship. The idea that Professor Snape might be attracted to her was laughable. The kiss had been mortifying on her part, but thankfully there was no question of him thinking she had developed romantic feelings for him. He had seen and heard her thoughts, and could sense her emotions as she felt them in those moments, and so he must know that she had told the truth when she said she had not meant to do it. What _had_ possessed her to do it? It all happened so quickly, and Hermione had been so angry, scared, and embarrassed, that she had no idea what _his_ thoughts had been in the moment.  
  
There was something between them, but it was something she could not name. They weren't friends. She doubted that he even remembered how to have friends after being a spy and a double agent for so long. Still, they were something... something more than student and teacher, and it was something that she was not sure she wanted to lose.


	4. Margaret White

Severus watched the students leave the Great Hall, the heads of house following impatiently. Everyone was anxious to spend a few hours in relaxation before the term began the next day.  
  
Hermione and Potter hung back from their housemates. It seemed that Potter had not managed to placate the Weasley girl, and Hermione had not forgiven the brother.  
  
Draco did not look well. He was sullen and drawn, had eaten little, and had not spoken to anyone at his table during the meal.  
  
Severus watched Draco evade Pansy Parkinson for the third time that evening. The girl was quite persistent in the face of rejection. Draco stopped short of leaving the hall and stood watching the other students file by. Potter was too busy whispering with Hermione to notice that he was being watched.  
  
“Good evening, Professor.”  
  
Horatia Bartram strode past him and looked over her shoulder, waiting for a response.  
  
Severus gave her a nod.  
  
“Professor Bartram.”  
  
She looked amused again. It seemed to be a constant state of mind for her. After a moment's consideration, probably spent deciding whether she should try to force conversation on him, she dropped her eyes to the steps in front of her and floated down them, her elegant green robes rippling after her.  
  
It had not escaped Severus' notice that Bartram was beautiful, and he was not the only one who thought so. Shacklebolt had tried all evening to impress her with stories from his early days as an Auror, and even Flitwick had been so nervous in her presence that he had accidentally tipped his goblet into his lap when she first spoke to him.  
  
The hall emptied quickly, leaving Severus alone in sudden silence. His mind was remarkably clear and untroubled, and his thoughts drifted to Hermione. She was pleased to be head girl. Minerva had insisted that Hermione would only find it a burden, but there was no mistaking the happiness she had felt upon receiving her badge. She had never been good at keeping her emotions to herself, and even if he had not been able to sense them, they had been written plainly on her face.  
  
Severus slept well that night, better than he had in the weeks leading up to the start of term. Many of the students were still afraid of him, which was not entirely undesirable. He had sensed fear, awe, and curiosity in their minds anytime he had happened to look at one of them longer than a second of two. Children were often full of unchecked emotion, and fear was one of the easiest emotions to sense.  
  
Severus spent a few quiet hours in his office reading. Fawkes liked having company in the evening. When he was not dozing he watched Severus intently, trilling every now and then to make sure he had not been forgotten.  
  
An owl arrived that evening with a letter from Margaret White, a tiny spotted one that looked like he had been caught in a storm.  
  
 _Professor Snape,  
  
You may anticipate my arrival at Hogwarts early Friday morning. My mother is happy to be back at the estate after all these years and is doing very well. Thank you for understanding our situation, but a week of silence and solitude is more than enough. These walls and rooms do not comfort me as they do my mother; I look forward to escaping to Hogwarts.  
  
I must thank you once more for insisting that I take the Muggle Studies position. Perhaps without intending to, you have given me what I most needed; a place in the magical world.  
  
M. White_  
  
Severus read the note quickly and set it aside, pleased that she would arrive before Monday. He would tell Minerva in the morning. She was quite anxious to meet Professor White.  
  
The students were too young to know the name Margaret White. Margaret's aunt, Barda White, and her father, Bernard, had been advocates of Muggle-born rights in the early 1900's during a period of transition away from traditional law, a transition which had been started in 1890 under Minister of Magic Augustana Lott.  
  
The Whites had used their wealth and social influence to fight for equal rights for half-bloods and Muggle-borns. Barda was known as an eccentric, brash witch with a weakness for younger wizards, while her brother Bernard had been a brooding man of few words who preferred to stay out of society. Bernard contributed a few articles to the cause, calling for the end of pureblood supremacy, which he predicted would devastate the wizarding world and significantly dilute magical power if left unchecked.  
  
Margaret had been only twenty-one years old when her father and aunt were killed by Death Eaters. It had happened a year after a reporter for the _Hag Hill Herald_ had published a letter, begging former Muggle-born activists to speak out once again against the purists. The fool had named the Whites and a few other old influential figures, quoting them extensively and even including an old portrait of the White family. He praised them for overcoming the purist ideals of their ancestors and risking their reputation for equality.  
  
They had been Voldemort's first targets, the first murders openly claimed by Death Eaters during the Dark Lord's first rise to power. Their deaths had accomplished exactly what was intended, silencing dissenters and supporters of Muggle-borns and half-bloods. There had been no public outrage over their murders, even though they were widely publicized.  
  
Margaret and her mother, Miranda, disappeared. Some said they had been killed or captured, but the general consensus was that they had gone into hiding and were living as Muggles. After that, acts of resistance were often attributed to M. White, and the name was sometimes written in blood-red letters on streets and buildings in the early seventies as a response to the atrocities committed by Voldemort and the Death Eaters.  
  
Sometime after Voldemort's final defeat, Miranda and Margaret had slipped quietly back into the wizarding world. _The Prophet_ ran a brief, remarkably reserved and respectful article on the family, in which it was reported that the Whites had lived as Muggles for thirty years.  
  
Severus had been in the process of securing a teacher for the empty Muggle Studies post, and was thoroughly unimpressed by the three applicants, which had included a retired wizard who worked as a janitor at a Muggle school, a young half-blood witch whose grammar was horrendous, and Filch, who reckoned he knew well enough what it was like to be a Muggle, since he could not do magic either.  
  
He had written to Margaret White to inform her of the position.  
  
At first she had refused to consider it, saying that it was too soon for her to leave her mother. Severus had urged her to come for an interview regardless. Three days later she had accepted the position, on the condition that he would not publicize her acceptance until the start of term.  
  
“Not that I think I'll be in danger,” she had said when they met for an interview. “But you say there are still many children of parents with pureblood loyalties at Hogwarts, and I don't want to be the cause of dropping enrollment. Their parents may decide to send them to a more... hm, traditional school.”  
  
“Allow me to worry about enrollment, Ms. White. Have you considered that your presence might have the reverse effect?”  
  
Margaret White was a petite, wiry woman in her late sixties, with sun-bleached hair that suggested that she had spent her years in exile on a beach. Though lightly lined, her face carried her age well. Tanned skin stretched tightly over the apples of her cheeks, creasing gently at the corners of her eyes when she smiled. But she had not been smiling then.  
  
“I have considered it, Professor, and that's the other reason for my terms. I don't want to be your celebrity. There will be quite enough of that with Harry Potter still in attendance. I won't have you parading me to the press to bolster your reputation, either. You want me to teach, and that's all I will be doing, quietly, and without fanfare. I take after my father in that respect.”  
  
Severus had known then that he and Margaret White were going to get along.  
  
White was enthusiastic about teaching, and after living among Muggles for most of her life, she was the most qualified witch Hogwarts had ever had in the position. When he told her this, she laughed and replied, “Well, I'm certainly not qualified for anything else!”  
  
With her no-nonsense attitude, it was inevitable that she and Minerva would become close friends. It was perhaps Severus' greatest reservation about hiring her.  
  
The first day of classes went smoothly. Severus found himself pacing the halls, directing errant first years to the correct staircases and corridors, or else simply frightening them into the nearest classroom with his presence.  
  
O.W.L. examinations would take place on Wednesday, after which class sizes would shift dramatically. Students and teachers were anxious. At the same time, the students knew they would not be given much work until everything was sorted out. A few days without homework was as good as a holiday, and meant that it was only a matter of time before the troublemakers wrecked their havoc in the halls. Severus patrolled constantly.  
  
Later in the afternoon, during classes, Severus took his ramblings outdoors. He walked around the lake, stopping in familiar spots and avoiding those associated with less pleasant memories.  
  
As he wound his way under the branches of a large willow, he was startled by a splash.  
  
Something broke the surface of the lake several meters from the shore, and when he looked up he saw a finned tail disappear in a spray of water.  
  
The Merpeople did not usually come to the surface, and never when there was a chance of being seen. Severus sat down on a large tree root, partially hidden by a low-hanging branch, and waited.  
  
Soon there was another splash, and a slim body twisted through the water just below the surface. The tail flicked above the water again.  
  
An answering ripple rose up under the water a few feet from the first, and another tail slapped the surface. Then the water stilled. Severus stared at the lake until his eyes hurt from the sun reflecting off the water.  
  
Something burst out of the water with a screech. The something was actually two Merpeople, male and female, arms flailing, pulling at one another, seaweed hair tangled around their bodies. They sank under the water again, making odd hissing and sighing noises.  
  
The Mercouple chased one another around the lake, breaking through the water with daring acrobatics and waving their tails tauntingly at one another. They emerged together a second time, this time in an embrace, kissing noisily – slurping really – and slapping their hands on their partner's upper arms and shoulders, splashing one another with water as their greyish skin began to dry out in the sun.  
  
Severus began to feel uncomfortably voyeuristic, and started to creep off of his seat, moving farther back underneath the willow tree's branches. Suddenly, the male screeched and slid out of the female's embrace, as if he had been pulled underwater by the tail – which turned out to be exactly what had happened. An older Merwoman emerged, clicking her tongue angrily. She grabbed the younger female by her tangled green hair and yanked her under the water. The surface stilled once more.  
  
The Mercouple must have been sufficiently chastised because they did not come back to the surface again. Severus crept out from under the willow and brushed a few leaves off of his robe before making his way back to the castle.  
  
Passing the Defense classroom on the way to his office, Severus noticed that the door was open.  
  
“Ban-shee,” said the class in near-unison. Judging from the voices they were first years. Severus peeked into the classroom.  
  
“Very good!”  
  
Bartram smiled encouragingly, if not a bit nervously, at her students.  
  
“And what does a banshee look like?”  
  
This was met with a half-dozen mumbled answers and a few raised hands.  
  
“Like a woman!”  
  
“Yes, that's right, Miss Tiller.”  
  
A plump blond boy raised his hand higher, nearly falling out of his chair in an effort to be noticed.  
  
“Ah... Mr. Frank, what else?”  
  
“They have long hair an' if you don't kill 'em before they scream... then you're dead!”  
  
“Exactly. A banshee's scream is fatal. Does anybody know how to kill a banshee?”  
  
Three girls were whispering in the back corner of the classroom, and the Ravenclaw half of the class was on the verge of napping.  
  
“Cut off it's head,” a Ravenclaw boy in the first row offered tiredly, without raising his hand.  
  
“Almost correct, Mr. Dove. You must break its neck. Decapitation would be one way to do it, but is too risky. A banshee's body and skin is as tough as steel and resistant to magic. It would kill you with its scream before you could give it more than a scratch.”  
  
The girls had stopped whispering and the Ravenclaws sat up straighter in their seats. Bartram began walking through the aisles between the desks.  
  
“A banshee's weakness is its neck. Banshee's do not waste time with a physical fight when they sense magic. They will scream as a first defense. However, when a banshee screams it must close its eyes. That is when you would attack, breaking its neck before you are killed by its scream. Can anybody think of a spell that you would use to break a banshee's neck?”  
  
Severus crept away. Bartram seemed to be doing well with the first years, but first years were easy to impress. He would give her a day or two to get used to the classroom before he officially observed her.  
  
Severus strolled through the corridors, his thoughts returning to his first year of teaching. It had been hellish. His reputation had preceded him into the classroom, where the words “greasy git” had been whispered between snickers on more than one occasion.  
  
After he had been revealed as a Death Eater and a spy in his second year at Hogwarts, his job had become much easier. Fear and intimidation had come naturally to him after that.  
  
“Excuse me, Professor.”  
  
Hermione stood in front of him holding a stack of books in her arms, a quill sticking out of her hair at an odd angle. She appeared to be waiting for permission to speak.  
  
“Yes, Miss Granger?”  
  
She moved the books to one arm, where they wobbled in a delicate balance as she used the other hand to search the pockets of her school robes.  
  
“Sorry... sir... I have a note... Professor Vector sent me to the library for these... here.”  
  
She handed him a scrap of parchment. Severus glanced at it.  
  
“Very well, Miss Granger.”  
  
Hermione stuffed the paper back into her pocket and clutched the books to her chest, shifting her weight to the other foot.  
  
“Uh, Professor...”  
  
She looked nervous, uncomfortable, and uncertain. Perhaps she was going to thank him for the head girl spot again, which would not only be unnecessary, but inappropriate. It had not been a favor, and he hoped she did not see it as such. She deserved to be head girl.  
  
“Is there a problem, Miss Granger?”  
  
She stared at him, a look of confusion on her face.  
  
“Ah, no... no, sir. It's just... I really should get back to class.”  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Indeed. You are free to go.”  
  
Hermione looked down at the floor, smiling faintly.  
  
“Professor, you're standing in front of the door.”  
  
After a few seconds of undignified silence on his part, Severus moved aside.  
  
“Forgive me, I was not aware that Professor Vector used this room.”  
  
Hermione smiled openly now.  
  
“Just for the seventh years,” she said. “So that we can come work on our projects at any time of the day.”  
  
She walked up to the door, shifting the pile of books in her arms again. Severus pointed his wand at the door, which clicked softly and opened a few inches.  
  
“Make use of your satchel next time, Miss Granger. There are fines for damaged books.”  
  
He turned away and continued down the corridor.  
  
Margaret White arrived that Friday, just before breakfast. The general lack of enthusiasm and curiosity over her presence was further proof that most of the students did not know who she was.  
  
Professor White was received by the faculty with much anticipation. As he had predicted, she and Minerva took an immediate liking to one another.


	5. Hermione in Hiding

“Harry, that's her! That's Margaret White!”  
  
Harry glanced at the professors' table, then back at Hermione.  
  
“Yeah, must be,” he said. He was unimpressed. Unlike Hermione, Harry had not spent two hours in the library trying to figure out just who the new professor was.  
  
“Harry, her father and her aunt were Muggle-born rights activists. They were murdered by Voldemort in 1968. She's the daughter of an original equal rights activist!”  
  
Harry's eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Professor White again.  
  
“That's really interesting, Hermione. I bet you wish you hadn't given up Muggle Studies, don't you?”  
  
He was grinning; he knew her too well.  
  
“Of course I do! It's amazing that she's here at Hogwarts. She's been in hiding ever since the murders. I wonder how Professor Snape convinced her to take the position.”  
  
“Blackmail, probably,” said Harry with a shrug. “If she was hiding from Voldemort, Snape probably knows everything about her.”  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
“Don't be ridiculous, Harry. He wouldn't threaten her, and besides, it doesn't look like she's afraid of him at all.”  
  
Professor White was seated next to Professor Snape and was engaged in conversation with Professor McGonagall, who sat on Snape's other side.  
  
“Maybe she would let me sit in on her classes without credit,” Hermione said. “I wonder why _The Prophet_ hasn't interviewed her yet. Maybe she doesn't like to talk about what happened...”  
  
“Hermione, eat. And stop staring at Professor White.”  
  
Hermione had actually been staring at Professor Snape, who was trying to finish his meal while the women on either side of him chatted across his plate.  
  
“Wish me luck, today,” said Harry. “Quidditch tryouts. I swear, if Ron messes up this time, I'll replace him with a third year. I hear Greg Early is really good.”  
  
Harry was Quidditch captain again. Hermione knew that Ginny had hoped she would be captain her final year. In fact, she probably wanted it more than she had wanted to be head girl. Harry was in for a difficult season.  
  
“What about Ginny?”  
  
“What about her?”  
  
“Has she said anything about you being captain?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Good luck, Harry,” Hermione said, as they got up from the table. She would watch the tryouts later and give Harry some support from the stands.  
  
“Thanks,” he said, and hurried off toward the Quidditch pitch, even though tryouts would not start for an hour.  
  
Hermione spent the hour studying. It was only the first week of class, but she was determined not to get behind on her work. Her Arithmancy project was particularly ambitious, and it was not her best subject. Hermione was the only Gryffindor in the NEWT-level Arithmancy class. The rest were Ravenclaws who were all quiet, studious, and fiercely competitive.  
  
Each student would have their own spacious desk, chalkboard, set of Arithmancy instruments, miniature book shelf, and three enormous rolls of parchment. Professor Vector had already interviewed each of them about their initial project proposals and allowed them to organize their areas to their liking.  
  
During the first class, Professor Vector had sent her to the library with a list of books that would be kept in the classroom for the semester. Not realizing how long the list was, Hermione had returned with two armfuls of books held strategically in balance against her body, only to find Professor Snape blocking the door to the classroom, frowning.  
  
Hermione blushed upon seeing him alone for the first time since the incident in the infirmary (as she liked to think of it).  
  
After reading Professor Vector's note, Snape stood staring at her. Her heart beat faster, heat rising to her face again as she wondered what he was going to say next.  
  
Thankfully, it had not taken her long to realize that he was just waiting for her to walk past him, as the regular Arithmancy classroom was two doors down the corridor. She had half expected him to reprimand her for wasting time out of class by dallying in the hall, but it never came. Instead, he had helped her with the door.  
  
Smiling briefly at the memory, Hermione quickly immersed herself in her Runes text and nearly missed the Quidditch tryouts. She slid into her seat in the stands just as Harry called the first group of second and third years.  
  
“Hermione!”  
  
Hermione was startled to see Ernie Macmillan approach and take a seat beside her in the stands.  
  
“Er, hi, Ernie,” she said, frowning. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “You were walking so fast.”  
  
Hermione noticed that he was a little out of breath. She gasped.  
  
“Oh! I didn't miss our meeting, did I? I thought we had rescheduled for 9 o'clock.”  
  
Hermione began to reach into her bag for her organizer, where she was certain she had crossed out _7:00 meeting head girl/boy with Ernie_ and written _9:00_ instead.  
  
“That's right,” said Ernie. “We did. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Do you think we could make it tomorrow?”  
  
Hermione flipped open the organizer.  
  
“Sure, Ernie. Is something the matter?”  
  
He had been staring at some distant point beyond Hermione's left ear. He glanced at her.  
  
“Oh no, nothing at all. I'm in the middle of a – project – this evening, and it's going rather, uh... well. So, I'd like to just keep working while the inspiration is there. You understand.”  
  
He looked out at the pitch while he spoke, but did not seem to be watching the tryouts.  
  
“Okay,” said Hermione, pulling out a quill. “We can meet tomorrow. What time would be best? At lunch?”  
  
“Sure,” said Ernie. “Lunch would be fine.”  
  
Hermione scratched out the meeting for that evening. Her quill hovered over the page.  
  
“Twelve o'clock?”  
  
Ernie frowned.  
  
“Perfect. That would be perfect.”  
  
“Okay,” said Hermione. “Twelve o'clock, at lunch, it is. I'll see you then.”  
  
“Great. Thanks, Hermione.”  
  
Ernie glanced at her again and stood up.  
  
“See you tomorrow.”  
  
“Bye, Ernie.”  
  
Hermione was left to wonder what was wrong with Ernie as she watched the rest of the tryouts. Ron did not do as well as he should have, and Ginny was more aggressive than usual. Thankfully, there were no fights or red-faced shouting matches.  
  
After waving goodbye to Harry, Hermione left to change and clean up. She went to her room, ready for a bath and some reading before bed.  
  
The next morning, Hermione was privy to the latest gossip at breakfast. Harry was late, and even though she tried to ignore Lavender's chatter, it was impossible not to overhear that Ernie Macmillan and Gretchen Hancock had broken up the night before.  
  
“He was crying,” said Lavender. “And Ernie Macmillan is not attractive under normal circumstances. He looked so ridiculous, I had to turn the corner so he wouldn't see me laughing.”  
  
Hermione frowned at her plate. No wonder Ernie had been acting strangely the night before. It was then that Hermione glanced up to see Ernie walk past the table.  
  
“God, Lavender, have a heart!” Hermione huffed, and left.  
  
She passed Harry on her way out.  
  
“Er – Hermione. Hello. You're leaving already? I'm only ten minutes late!”  
  
“Sorry, Harry! I – uh – forgot my books. See you later.”  
  
Hermione caught up with Ernie on the staircase.  
  
“Ernie!”  
  
He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder.  
  
“I heard about you and Gretchen,” said Hermione. “Are you going to be okay?”  
  
Ernie sighed and continued walking up the stairs.  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Ernie, wait – ”  
  
Hermione hurried up to where Ernie stood.  
  
“I hope you didn't think I was talking about you... you know, I just happened to sit across from Lavender today.”  
  
“Thanks, Hermione,” said Ernie, who had been staring at a spot on the floor. “I didn't think that – I know you wouldn't ever – you know – I... have to go. Er, bye.”  
  
Hermione watched him go, still angry with Lavender – perhaps inexplicably so. She hardly knew Ernie Macmillan. She simply could not stand the sight or sound of Lavender, who had obviously meant for Ernie to hear her comment. She had done the same thing to Hermione too many times to count over the years.  
  
“Hermione Granger!”  
  
Hermione jumped at the sound of her name. It was Draco Malfoy, coming down the stairs toward her.  
  
“Hello, Draco,” she said, as neutrally as she could manage. He stared at her as if he had forgotten what he wanted to say.  
  
“I want to talk to you,” he said at last.  
  
Hermione stared back at him.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Alone.”  
  
Hermione felt a small, icy warning well up in her stomach.  
  
“Oh, really?”  
  
“Yes. Now.”  
  
“Actually, I can't. I have to meet someone before class. Sorry.”  
  
Hermione turned around, walking as fast as she could without breaking into a jog. She headed for the Great Hall, but thought better of it, and darted into an empty classroom as she turned the corner.  
  
Standing behind the door, she heard Draco approach.  
  
“Draco.”  
  
Professor Snape was out there as well.  
  
“Yes, Professor?”  
  
“You do not look well, Draco. Have you been using a sleeping potion?”  
  
Silence stretched on in the hall, mere feet from where Hermione hid.  
  
“No, Professor Snape,” mumbled Draco.  
  
“How is your mother?”  
  
More silence.  
  
“She is... fine. We are both fine, sir.”  
  
“I see. Very well, Draco. I hope to see you excel this year, and after you leave Hogwarts.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
The two parted ways, and Hermione let out a breath in relief. She waited a few minutes before making her escape.  
  
“Miss Granger, what purpose have you in that empty classroom?”  
  
Hermione closed her eyes, and willed her mind to be calm. She turned to face Professor Snape.  
  
“No purpose at all, it seems,” she replied. “I thought I saw a first-year walk in, and assumed he was lost. Perhaps it was a ghost playing tricks on me – no one is there.”  
  
He was not fazed.  
  
“You might as well be herding cats, Granger. Let them find their own way, or face the consequences. No matter what, some will take to exploring the darkest corners of the castle in the middle of the night just to spite you.”  
  
Hermione smiled slightly.  
  
“I'll keep that in mind.”


	6. A Few Observations

Severus disliked first years, a sentiment which would not come as a surprise to anyone, and one that he could not help feeling strongly as he sat at the back of Horatia Bartram's classroom.  
  
“Professor Bartram!”  
  
A small hand waved in the air, while the rest of the children's heads bobbed up from their scrolls at the sound.  
  
“Miss Bibb, don't forget to raise your hand _silently_ next time. We are taking a quiz.”  
  
Bartram walked over to the curly-haired blonde child's desk to answer her question. The girl's cloud of hair shuddered as she nodded her head ferociously in reply to Bartram's whispered, “Do you understand?”  
  
Severus was observing Bartram's class for the third time. During his first observation, he had noted that she was moving at an acceptable pace through the second year curriculum, and that she had been truthful when she claimed to be good with young children. However, Severus did not think her overly-sweet and sometimes patronizing tone of voice would appeal to an older, more critical audience. He would observe once more today, during her fourth-year class, to see if his suspicions proved to be true.  
  
For the most part, first years were over-excited when using magic, and over-eager to use their wands in class. Severus shuddered at the memory of a first year potions mishap magnified one-hundred-fold by the ill-timed and over-zealous use of a wand by a student.  
  
However, the longer Severus sat in the Defense classroom watching Bartram, the more he felt that first years were almost tolerable – when he was not the one in charge of the class.  
  
Once class was dismissed and Bartram had waved goodbye to the last first year boy, she dropped her smile and sauntered toward Severus.  
  
“I hope you are writing good things about me in that book, Severus.”  
  
Severus stood abruptly.  
  
“Professor Bartram, I hardly think we are on a first name basis, as I have yet to decide whether to replace you with one of my seventh year Ravenclaw students.”  
  
She blinked once, and her voice shook slightly as she spoke.  
  
“Forgive me, Professor Snape. I was only following the precedent set by the rest of the faculty. Please inform me if and when I may address you in the same manner.”  
  
Bartram spun on her heel and walked back to her desk, composing herself.  
  
“May I take your silence on the adequacy of my teaching as approval?”  
  
Severus tucked his journal away and walked to the door.  
  
“At present, I am not prepared to discuss my observations. I shall return tomorrow during the fourth year class, after which we shall discuss your performance.”  
  
Bartram smiled, her heavy-lidded eyes following him.  
  
“I look forward to it, Professor.”  
  
Severus felt her gaze on his back as he left, walking briskly. There was something predatory in Bartram's mesmerizing eyes, yet her confidence seemed to be a delicately balanced act. Severus suspected that it would not take much to break down her overly confident and seductive act to see what kind of insecurities hid underneath; however, it was not something he particularly cared to pursue. He had better things to do than make Bartram a personal project. If she was competent as a teacher, he would be satisfied to let her teach and give her as little trouble as possible. If only she would return the favor.  
  
Severus took a walk around the castle, not yet willing to return to his office and the inevitable paperwork that awaited him there. He must review the students' year placements, as the results of the O.W.L.s were in, and send letters out to their parents. He intended for all parents to receive the correspondence, whether they be Muggle or magical families. In the past, Muggle parents would not have been informed. It would be preferable to leave the task to Minerva, but she was busy assisting students with class schedules and holding meetings over O.W.L.s results.  
  
Minerva stepped out of her classroom as he walked by, sending a student out in front of her.  
  
“Thank you, Professor,” said the girl, a shy first year with waist-length hair in pigtails. Severus struggled to remember her name.  
  
“You're welcome, dear,” said Minerva, with uncharacteristic kindness. “Now, quickly, back to Charms!”  
  
“First breakdown of the year?” asked Severus.  
  
“Merlin, no,” said Minerva. “Just one of many. That one reminds me of Miss Granger. She has read every book on magic she could get her hands on, and is as sharp as a tack, but socially inept. Only child, Muggle parents, and has never been away from home. Ah, well, she will find her place soon enough.”  
  
“Let us hope so,” said Severus. “And for the rest of the staff's sakes, let us hope she is not quite such a know-it-all as Miss Granger was at that age. She seems to have a timid temperament.”  
  
Minerva only smiled.  
  
“Miss Granger seems quite happy to be back in classes. Have you seen her schedule? I do not believe I have ever seen a Gryffindor with such a course load. The girl is certainly ambitious.”  
  
“Indeed,” said Severus.  
  
“Have you made a decision about Bartram? I have yet to hear you say much about her.”  
  
“Not officially,” said Severus. “I plan to observe her fourth year class as well.”  
  
“She is certainly a favorite with the students already. I believe the older boys would not mind if you gave her all the classes and sent Kingsley back to the Ministry.”  
  
Light danced in Minerva's eyes.  
  
“So, how many times will you observe the poor woman, Severus?” Minerva said, prodding him with a wicked smile. “I am astonished that you are so taken with Ms. Bartram already. I expected it of Kingsley, but I thought surely you would be capable of behaving more professionally.”  
  
“What are you going on about, Minerva?” he asked tiredly. “I believe it was you who suggested a minimum of three formal observations before she was granted a year-long position.”  
  
McGonagall smiled again, eyes twinkling. “So I did, and I know you have the best interest of the students in mind. However, it seems that Professor Bartram is under the impression that your visits stem from more personal interest than professional.”  
  
Severus felt his eyebrows shoot up in response.  
  
“Why would she tell you such a thing?”  
  
“She did not, but the castle walls have ears, Severus. It seems she has taken notice of the fact that you have not observed the other new hires yet, but have spent quite a bit of time with her. Perhaps she sees what she wants to see in your motives...”  
  
“Then, she is a fool.”  
  
“Hmmm.... perhaps. However, she is skilled in Defense, and quite intelligent if her transcripts and recommendations are to be believed.”  
  
Severus left as they were interrupted by Minerva's next appointment.  
  
Severus decided to make a stop by Margaret White's classroom. He should not have to justify his reservations about Horatia Bartram, or his observation of her classes, but if the silly seductress was going to start rumors about herself, he would quickly put an end to it.  
  
It was quite a long walk from Minerva's office, but the castle made it easier for the headmaster, opening the lift passage for him and depositing him on the proper floor, just a few yards from the room. Severus was pleased to find the door open to the Muggle Studies room. He stood in the hall and listened for a few minutes.  
  
“Okay, next we are going to listen to a few Muggle songs. I want you to write down any words you don't understand. After that, we will see if they are Muggle words, or just words you don't know yet. It's okay if you don't know how to spell it, just do the best you can. Everybody have their quills and ink ready?”  
  
Severus entered the classroom and stood at the back. Professor White played a few songs for the students, the majority of which did not have any special Muggle vocabulary. Lyrics about Muggle wars, Muggle celebrities, Muggle inventions, and Muggle currency were the only words that students from magical families would not recognize.  
  
“Raise your hand if you have more than five words on your list.”  
  
Most of the students raised their hands.  
  
“Who has more than eight words?”  
  
Half of the hands went back down.  
  
“And what about more than ten words?”  
  
No hands remained in the air.  
  
“All right. Somebody tell me one of the words on your list. Raise your hands!”  
  
White pointed to a second year boy near the front, whose hand had flown up at lightning speed.  
  
“Clowns?”  
  
“Okay. A clown. Does anybody here know what a clown is?”  
  
Scattered hands shot up around the classroom.  
  
“Go ahead, Lissa.”  
  
“It's a person who dresses in clothes that don't fit, and paints a big smile on their face. Oh, and wears a big red nose, sometimes... and they... they, uh... do funny things to make people laugh...”  
  
“Lissa, why do you think Muggles have clowns?”  
  
“Um... to make kids happy. Sometimes they pay to go watch them... at the circus... or they pay them to come to a kid's birthday party. My brother had one, but he was scared of it!”  
  
“Good. So, we might say that clowns are entertainers. What kinds of people are entertainers in the magical world?”  
  
“The Weird Sisters!” said a girl with black curls enthusiastically.  
  
“How do they entertain us magical folk, Gabriella?” asked White.  
  
“They sing, and play guitars, and they are AWESOME!” Gabriella giggled.  
  
“What about little children? How do magical parents entertain their children at birthday parties?” asked White. “You are all older, and you probably have not been to see one in a long time...”  
  
“Oh!” The first boy to answer threw his hand up again.  
  
“A Silly-Wizzy!”  
  
“Yes, that's right. And a Silly-Wizzy is very much like a clown, except that he or she wears a brightly-colored robe and uses spells to make their hair change colors instead of wearing a wig. Let's hear some more of the words on your lists...”  
  
After hearing a few more words, Professor White stopped the discussion.  
  
“Okay, class, before you start working on your Muggle biographies, we need to talk about the music and words we just heard. Is anybody surprised that they knew what these Muggle musicians were talking about? Nobody here had more than ten words on their list. What does that mean?”  
  
Silence followed. White sat on the edge of her desk, feet dangling above the floor.  
  
“What it means, is that Muggles are not that different from witches and wizards. Some of you already know that, because one of your parents is a witch or a wizard, and one is a Muggle. We are going to learn about these famous Muggles just like we learn about the history of magic, and all the important witches and wizards who have come before us. The magical world and the Muggle world are still connected, even though in modern times, most Muggles do not know that magic exists. That is why Muggles have fairy tale stories. A long, long time ago, Muggles knew about us, but now they think magic is just a story.”  
  
After this speech, White passed out Muggle books to the students, and allowed them to work in pairs on the biographies. Once the students were working, she came to stand beside Severus.  
  
“Welcome to Muggle Studies,” she said, peering up at him over the top of her black-rimmed glasses.  
  
“You seem to enjoy the classroom,” said Severus. “Have you had any problems thus far?”  
  
White chuckled.  
  
“Oh, no, not at all. They have been quite the set of angels, ever since I told them my life story. I seem to be something of a celebrity, especially to the Muggle-born children. The rest of them don't know what to make of me.”  
  
Severus watched the students work for a moment.  
  
“Better you than I, Professor White. I dare not step back in to a classroom after all that has happened.”  
  
White gave him a long look.  
  
“Nonsense... they would hang on your every word.”  
  
Professor White left to answer a student's question, and Severus took his leave to the surreptitious glances of the students.  
  
Unwilling to go back to his office so early in the day, Severus walked the halls for a while. Margaret White would be the finest Muggle Studies professor to ever grace Hogwarts with her knowledge, and would likely be a favorite of all but the most indoctrinated youths. Fortunately, she would be teaching at the best possible time to reach those young minds – after their lives and families had just been changed forever by a foolish war.  
  
His thoughts turned to Draco Malfoy. The boy had still looked ill the previous day when Severus had stopped him in the hall, and while his behavior was somewhat to be expected after all that had happened to his family during the war, Severus could not shake the feeling that there was something quite wrong with the boy. Perhaps he should write to Narcissa, after a bit more observation.  
  
After lunch, Severus observed Kingsley's class of fifth year students. Kingsley was a charismatic speaker, and he seemed to hold to students' attention in the palm of his hand. Severus was satisfied with the depth of material he was able to cover in one lesson, though less impressed with the lack of homework assigned.  
  
 _A crowd-pleaser, but competent,_ Severus thought. At least Kingsley would easily command respect from the older children, something that Bartram might not so easily be able to do. Severus did not wait to speak with Professor Shacklebolt at the end of class. Catching Kingsley's eye with a short nod of approval, he bowed out of the classroom.  
  
That night at dinner, Severus found himself seated beside Horatia Bartram. It seemed that Minerva was recovering from a vicious migraine in the infirmary (or so claimed Poppy), so Bartram had taken the open seat. Severus ignored her, but Horatia was not content to be silent.  
  
“Professor Snape, I think you will enjoy my fourth-year lesson tomorrow. It involves... singing.”  
  
Severus glanced irritably at her.  
  
“Professor Bartram, I should think you would know me well enough to assume otherwise.”  
  
She laughed, and said brightly, “Indeed, I believe I do. Perhaps you are surprised that I would use music in my classroom. When you knew me, I was a particularly quiet, sullen child who despised all group activities. Do you remember the year Professor Lomsley made participation in the Christmas concert mandatory for all fourth-years? It was torture for me... and everyone else too, I think.”  
  
“It was no coincidence that it was also the last year Hogwarts had a Christmas concert,” Severus acknowledged.  
  
A few moments of blessed silence stretched between them, and Severus took the opportunity to turn to Margaret White.  
  
“Professor White, I was quite pleased with your observation this morning. Is the classroom to your liking? It had been long neglected, I'm afraid.”  
  
Margaret nodded.  
  
“It will do, Severus. There is nothing I want at the moment.”  
  
“If you find you are in need of any particular supplies, simply let the house-elves know.”  
  
Severus took at sip from his goblet, and nearly spit it out when he felt something brush his leg. Something that felt suspiciously like Horatia Bartram's foot.  
  
“Oh! Forgive me, Professor, I did not realize you were so... close. You are quite tall – your legs must be terribly cramped under the table.”  
  
Severus slid slightly away from her in his chair.  
  
“Professor Bartram, you seem to take up more space than a woman of your dimensions should need.”  
  
She smiled.  
  
“Then there is also the awkward problem of being left-handed at dinner,” she said, purposefully bumping elbows with him.  
  
“Something you should have learned to deal with by now,” said Severus.  
  
Margaret White was chatting with Poppy, so Severus continued to eat stoically, waiting for the next interruption from Horatia. It was not long before she sighed.  
  
“Forgive me if I'm bothering you, Professor. I am not accustomed to eating in silence. May I ask... why did you hire Kingsley Shacklebolt instead of teaching the those classes yourself? You would have been a fantastic source of knowledge for the advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts students.”  
  
“As is Professor Shacklebolt,” said Severus.  
  
“Come on, he might be a great Auror, and I'm sure he has seen terrible things in his time, but compared to you... your superior intelligence and depth of knowledge of the Dark Arts must make you the best prepared to teach Defense. Your reputation was still known in Slytherin house when I came to Hogwarts. I always thought it should have been you teaching DADA, not – ”  
  
“Professor Bartram! As a fellow Slytherin, you should recall that we are not inclined to take on burdensome amounts of work out of the goodness of our hearts. I am quite busy enough with the responsibilities of headmaster. Furthermore, if you think that stroking my ego will help you earn a spot as a permanent faculty member, you are terribly wrong.”  
  
Horatia sipped from her goblet.  
  
“Forgive me, Professor, but you are quite mistaken about my intentions.”  
  
She glanced at him from the corners of her heavy-lidded eyes.  
  
The meal continued in silence, punctuated only by the occasional comment from Madam Pomfrey. Severus stared at the students seated in front of him, most of them laughing and eating happily. His eyes always found the others though, the ones who ate silently and alone, or quickly between furtive glances at their peers before hurrying off to the dormitories or the library.  
  
Perhaps it was time to stop eating in silence. It was clear to both himself and Bartram that her teaching position was not in danger this year, despite his threats. It was also clear that Bartram was desperate for his attention. Would it not be natural to have a little fun?  
  
Severus cleared his throat.  
  
“Tell me, Professor Bartram... has your singing improved since you were a student, or do you plan to use your voice as a punishment in the classroom?”  
  
Horatia choked on her mouthful of glazed ham and turned to stare at him.  
  
“Professor Snape, that is... something I intend to be a surprise.”  
  
She grinned as if she had just won a prize.


	7. Hermione's Library

Hermione sat across from Ginny in the library. It was a small miracle that Hermione had been able to convince her friend to join her in the dusty shelves – the weather was so bad that even the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been forced to cancel practice. The crack of thunder was still faintly audible in the heart of the castle. Most of Gryffindor was having an impromptu rainy day party in the tower.  
  
The girls had come to a sort of truce earlier in the week, late one night in the common room. Though they had not actually been fighting, they had not spoken to one another properly for months. Apologies, and promises of friendship had led them to agree to meet at least once a week without Ron or Harry.  
  
“Hermione, are you seriously going to study today?”  
  
Ginny, who had been staring incredulously at the book in Hermione's hand, dropped her head to the desk with a soft _thunk._  
  
Hermione laughed.  
  
“You should know me well enough to answer that question, Ginny!”  
  
Ginny sighed.  
  
“I know, but I need you to try, for just a moment, to be a normal person who does not carry textbooks with her at all times.”  
  
Hermione snorted. “Oh, really, and I suppose by that you mean that I should be slacking off at the beginning of the most important year of my schooling? Before I take the N.E.W.T.s?”  
  
With an exaggerated “tsk, tsk”, Hermione smiled at the red-head, who was still sprawled out face down on the desk.  
  
“Ginny.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Are you going to be okay?”  
  
Ginny sat up and rubbed her eyes.  
  
“Yes. No. I don't... know. I'm just so PISSED at Harry! Still! He goes around acting like I'm the one who broke it off, staring daggers at me every time I so much as speak to another guy, as if the reason we are not together is that I just got tired of him. It is so far from the truth...”  
  
Hermione shifted slightly in her chair. She did not know what to say, and thought it best to let Ginny tell her side of the story. Hermione had, somewhat unfairly, distanced herself from Ginny while Ron and Harry fought, and had chosen Harry's side purely on the grounds that he needed her friendship more.  
  
“I know I was horrible to be around for a while... but Fred...”  
  
Her eyes teared up.  
  
“You weren't there to see it, Hermione. Harry was such a sullen prat whenever he was around the family. I know he was mourning, as well, but... it was like he resented us because everything was different and we were trying to move on. Then he got angrier and angrier at Ron, and it was just ridiculous, because even _you_ had forgiven Ron at that point.”  
  
Hermione's eyes welled up without warning. Ginny sniffed and wiped her own eyes.  
  
“Hermione, I am truly sorry for what my brother did, but I still love him. Harry just would not let me keep the peace.”  
  
Ginny heaved another heavy sigh.  
  
“He wanted everything to be the same as it always was... you three, best friends. You and Ron, me and Harry, together. He could not let it go. And I felt guilty for wishing he would get over it already, because he has lost so much...”  
  
Hermione played with the pages of the book in front of her.  
  
“I know, Ginny. Harry and Ron are both quite terrible at admitting when they are wrong, and quite determined to hold a grudge. I hope they will make up... but I don't think it will be soon.”  
  
She glanced up at Ginny.  
  
“I think it would help if Ron was able to do _anything_ without Padma... Harry really doesn't like her.”  
  
Ginny laughed.  
  
“Merlin, you think, Hermione? Poor Padma... she's really not so bad, but it was the worst timing imaginable for them to get together... and she tries too hard with Harry. It comes across as arrogance.”  
  
Hermione nodded in agreement.  
  
Ginny continued, “I hope this doesn't upset you, but she _has_ liked Ron since third year... she was so disappointed when he ignored her at the Yule Ball! Apparently, she had the worst crush on him until sixth year, and then gave up when he started getting closer to you.”  
  
Hermione felt a twinge of pity for the poor girl, who would had been falling for Ron at the same time that Ron was realizing that he wanted his best female friend to be something more. They must have been united in their hatred of Lavender Brown.  
  
“Oh,” said Ginny. “And she was positively terrified that you might take some kind of revenge on her after Snape cured you from that curse.”  
  
Hermione smiled slightly.  
  
“Well, I am known to jinx those who cross me...”  
  
“Padma's much better than Pavarti,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “I don't even know how those two are related, much less twins.”  
  
“Pavarti is better than Lavender, though,” remarked Hermione. “At least she doesn't giggle incessantly. It makes ignoring the idle gossip a bit easier.”  
  
“Oh, they are both such snobs,” said Ginny. “And if I have to listen to Anthony Goldstein ramble on about some obscure historical wizard one more time...”  
  
Ginny sighed once more.  
  
“I miss Harry.”  
  
Hermione took a moment to consider what she should say. Was it right of her to meddle, or should she wait for her friends to seek out one another on their own?  
  
“Ginny, I think you should talk to him.”  
  
Hermione watched her friend's face become curious, yet guarded.  
  
“What has he said, Hermione?”  
  
“Nothing, really, but he's miserable, too. Ron and I were not meant to be together, and I can see now that it would not have lasted... it's best that we were never a proper couple, after all. Who knows how long we would have tried to make it work before it destroyed our friendship? But Harry... from how he reacted to the situation, I know that if it had been you under that curse, he would never have left your side. That's something that deserves another chance, I think.”  
  
Hermione hesitated, seeing hope well up in Ginny's eyes.  
  
“It could be – though he has said _nothing_ of the sort to me, mind you – that perhaps he felt betrayed by your support of Ron and Padma's relationship. Perhaps, it made him wonder if you considered your relationship with him just as casual, and would abandon him as easily as Ron did me. It could be part of the reason you two fought over Ron so much...”  
  
Ginny was quiet for a while, staring at the bookshelves beside them.  
  
“Yeah. I think you could be right. I would never have thought he would feel... that he didn't _know_ how much I... Merlin's balls, what if you're right?”  
  
She covered her face with her hands.  
  
“I'm a heartless bitch, Hermione.”  
  
“Gin – ”  
  
She groaned in anguish.  
  
“I'm as oblivious as Ron after all.”  
  
Hermione and Ginny went their separate ways at dinner, to Ron and Harry accordingly, and Hermione could not help feeling a bit uneasy about the hope she had given Ginny. Perhaps it was too soon for her to approach Harry. That he missed her was obvious, but he was terribly stubborn when he was angry. And he was angry at nobody and everybody – Harry seemed determined that none of his relationships should have changed after the war. He wanted his friends to be as they always had been, and Hermione did not think he had properly mourned the deaths of those who had died in the final battle at Hogwarts.  
  
Her thoughts heavy on her mind, she ate dutifully, if not mindlessly.  
  
“Hermione.”  
  
“Mmm?” she hummed through a mouth of potatoes.  
  
Harry turned to her.  
  
“What do you make of Malfoy this year?”  
  
Hermione swallowed her food and gathered her thoughts.  
  
“I haven't thought much about him at all, Harry,” she answered truthfully. “Though, he did sort of – corner me – in the hall the other day. He said he wanted to speak with me privately.”  
  
“What?! Hermione, why didn't you tell me? Did you talk to him?”  
  
“Harry, it was nothing, I told him I was busy. I thought he probably wanted to apologize or something, but to be honest, I was not sure I'd be the appropriate person to hear it or to offer forgiveness. I'm not sure I can truly forgive him yet...”  
  
“Yeah...” Harry said. “He's been acting strange. He turns up everywhere I go, but I haven't caught him following me yet. I've never seen him about in the halls as much as I have this year, and he is always alone. Look!”  
  
Hermione glanced at Slytherin table to see that indeed, Draco Malfoy sat alone, with distance on either side between him and his classmates. Pansy was hanging on the arm of a tall sixth year boy with the most beautiful eyes Hermione had ever seen on a Slytherin.  
  
“Who is that with Pansy?” she mumbled.  
  
“Huh?” Harry made a face. “Gross, Hermione. Really? If he's with Pansy, he's probably a nutter.”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. She needed more female friends.  
  
“Yes, Harry, Malfoy seems to have lost his friends... perhaps he really has changed. It would not be impossible.”  
  
Harry was silent for a moment.  
  
“I think he's up to something.”  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
“Harry. Leave Malfoy be! I'm sure he is just trying to get through the year so that he can forget about everything that happened here.”  
  
Hermione glanced at Malfoy again. He was eating quickly, looking down at the table. His face was so pale he almost looked like a ghost – a shade or two lighter than he normally appeared. Hermione wondered if she should have agreed to hear whatever it was he wanted to tell her. Perhaps he was different now. After all, there was nothing forcing him to return to Hogwarts. He was here of his own free will, presumably.  
  
The feeling of being watched pricked Hermione's senses like a cool caress. She focused her mind on the sensation, and casually looked around the Great Hall, until her eyes landed on the head table. Professor Snape was staring straight ahead at her, while Professor Bartram leaned in and spoke to him with a sly smile.  
  
 _She's mental if she thinks Severus Snape is enjoying her company,_ thought Hermione.  
  
Slowly, one of Professor Snape's eyebrows rose higher, as if he had heard her thoughts. Hermione looked away.  
  
“Harry,” she said. “How is your Herbology paper coming?”  
  
Harry groaned. “Bollocks. When is that due?”  
  
“Day after tomorrow,” Hermione said calmly.  
  
Harry mumbled something to himself, ending with “... as bloody well... nothing _else_ to do...”  
  
“I suppose you've finished yours, then?” he asked hopefully.  
  
“Actually, I'm working on it tonight. Want to meet me in the library?”  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
“Yeah, sure.”  
  
Hermione resisted stealing another glance at the head table until the end of the meal. As she and Harry left to collect their books for the library, she was surprised to see a neutral look on the headmaster's face. Hermione could not look away as she watched him stand and in one fluid motion bend close to the young Defense teacher to give a reply. Hermione could not help wondering what sort of biting remark he had hissed in Bartram's ear.  
  
Though she and Harry had quite a head start out of the hall, Hermione knew that Professor Snape was not far behind. She could sense a great deal of frustration radiating from him, and wondered if he realized that she could still read his emotions so easily. The sensation faded, and Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see him turn toward his office as she and Harry took the shortcut to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
Harry was much better at writing essays when Ron was not around, Hermione observed later that evening. He was nearly done, and was currently engrossed in the passage from _Plants and Plant-like Magical Creatures_ that Hermione had recommended.  
  
Hermione had finished her own essay over an hour earlier, and was just finishing up her initial list of sources for her Arithmancy project. As interesting as the research was, Hermione found herself yawning.  
  
Harry looked up.  
  
“Er – I've just about finished. Just one... last... paragraph...” he said, as he squinted at the page, then grabbed his quill and scribbled furiously.  
  
Hermione stretched her arms above her head.  
  
“Harry, I'm so proud of you... I think you've really done well on this essay.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, don't get too excited. It's a solid middle-of-the-road effort, I'm sure. Probably on par with your third year work... at least Professor Sprout doesn't take off for spelling.”  
  
Hermione smiled. “Well, not for you, anyway.”  
  
Harry looked up again.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Harry, I think she may have a bit of a soft spot for you. She certainly takes off spelling for Ron... and me – er – occasionally.”  
  
Harry simply sighed, and kept writing.  
  
“Sorry, Hermione.”  
  
Harry and Hermione left the library nearly empty, except for a few fourth year girls huddled over a handful of back issues of _Young Witch._ As they passed, Hermione stopped short, causing Harry to bump into her.  
  
“Ooof! Merlin's beard, Hermione, what is it?”  
  
Hermione blinked and tore her gaze away from the cover of the magazine currently held open in one of the girl's hands.  
  
 _Severus Snape, Harry Potter, or Charlie Krepp? Who is your wizard type? Take the quiz!_  
  
The cover of the magazine featured Charlie Krepp, a wizard pop star heart-throb, wearing an open robe with no undershirt.  
  
“I – uh – thought I forgot my bag for a moment,” said Hermione. “Let's go.”  
  
It would be best if Harry did not know he had been lumped with Professor Snape and a teen pop sensation by a rubbish magazine sometime in the past few months.  
  
A few days later, Hermione found herself alone in the library, unable to convince Harry, Ginny, or even Luna to study with her. Neville and Luna were still together, and according to the portraits, spent an inordinate amount of time snogging in remote areas of the castle.  
  
Hermione flipped the heavy volume in front of her shut with a thud and started to gather her things. It was quite late.  
  
As Hermione's thoughts turned from the complexities of Arithmancy to the dusty, stale library around her, she heard a rather strange noise... like a hushed sigh.  
  
Tossing the last of her work under her arm, she quietly walked toward the exit, trying to look about the shelves inconspicuously as she passed.  
  
She turned her head to the right, just as she heard the unmistakable sound of someone snogging.  
  
 _Ugh, please not in my library, Neville,_ she thought, then gasped.  
  
Ginny and Dean Thomas were embracing in the Charms section. Ginny met Hermione's eyes in surprise, then quickly looked away and pushed Dean farther back into the aisle, into a small alcove.  
  
Hermione hurried from the library. She did not notice that she had dropped a roll of parchment until she was out of the library, and heard a voice behind her call out her name.  
  
“Granger!”  
  
Hermione slowed and looked over her shoulder.  
  
“Malfoy?”  
  
The shockingly pale young wizard strode toward her, looking nervous.  
  
“You dropped this.”  
  
He held out the parchment. Hermione stopped and turned around.  
  
“I did?”  
  
“Yes, in the library. I was studying...”  
  
Draco trailed off, staring at her, still holding the parchment out. Hermione took it from him.  
  
“Er – thanks,” she said.  
  
He was still staring at her, so Hermione started inching backward.  
  
“I, uh, need to... go...” said Hermione.  
  
“Isn't it your night to check the halls?” said Malfoy suddenly.  
  
“Ah... yes. I suppose it is,” Hermione allowed.  
  
“Then... I should go, before you give me detention.”  
  
“Er... yes. It _is_ past hours.”  
  
Malfoy blinked and looked at some point in the distance behind Hermione.  
  
“Well, goodnight, then.”  
  
Hermione stood staring at the empty spot in front of her as he walked away.  
  
It was not long before Hermione heard from Ginny. At breakfast the next morning, Ginny pulled her aside.  
  
“I need to talk to you, Hermione.”  
  
Reluctant as Hermione was to hear Ginny come up with excuses for running back to Dean Thomas, she finished her toast and followed Ginny out to a remote spot in the courtyard. They sat silently for a moment before Hermione spoke.  
  
“So... Dean Thomas.”  
  
Ginny nodded.  
  
“Dean Thomas.”  
  
Hermione simply raised one eyebrow.  
  
“He's fun, Hermione, and he's a good friend. I've told him it's casual for now, and he agrees. It's just, you weren't around after I talked to Harry, and Dean was... and he is really good at snogging!”  
  
Hermione frowned.  
  
“After you talked to Harry...?”  
  
Ginny laughed a little.  
  
“There wasn't a lot of talking, Hermione. First he refused to say anything, then he started yelling at me for 'flirting with every guy who looks at me'.”  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
“So... you ran straight to Dean and started snogging? Why?”  
  
Ginny started to sound defensive.  
  
“Look, Hermione, I'm not like you. I don't like being single. I've been trying to make up with Harry for months, now. After the other day, I don't think it will ever happen. Maybe it's time to move on... the only reason Dean and I broke up was Harry. Before Dean started getting jealous, it was really great with him, and it turns out he was right about my interest in Harry. So, how else would he have acted? And after all that happened, he didn't hold it against me or Harry and still wanted to be friends... which says a lot about his character. ”  
  
Hermione looked away.  
  
“Ginny, be careful.”  
  
“Why would you say that?”  
  
“Dean is a great guy... but I don't think for a moment that he is willing to keep dating you 'casually', and I doubt you will remain friends if it doesn't work out this time.”  
  
Ginny shrugged.  
  
“He makes me happy. Harry only wants to fight. I don't know what might happen with Dean, but I want to give him another chance. Don't worry, Hermione – he knows I'm on the rebound. We are taking it slow.”  
  
Another raised eyebrow prompted Ginny to amend her statement.  
  
“Okay, fine. We are _trying_ to take it slow.”  
  
Hermione left Ginny with no more advice, feeling an incredible sadness weigh down on her. She was mourning the end of Harry and Ginny's relationship at last, for she had been certain that it was not over and that soon, she would be able to spend time with Harry and Ginny together. It was quite tiring to be stuck between the two of them. Who would she pick, if forced to choose sides?  
  
 _Harry, of course,_ thought Hermione. While it was nice to have a girlfriend (other than Luna, who was not much good for serious conversation), Hermione would always side with Harry. He needed her, and valued her friendship more, even if he was being an idiot at the moment.  
  
Hermione watched Ginny and Dean for the next few weeks, and true to Ginny's word, they seemed to be dating casually. If Hermione had not seen them together in the library, she would not have realized they were even a couple. There were no public displays of affection, flirtatious bickering in hall, or intimate glances in class. They were surprisingly discreet, though Hermione could discern a closeness that went beyond friendship. Harry was oblivious, and actually seemed to think Ginny was interested in Dermot Diamande, a handsome, but shy Hufflepuff boy who sometimes stopped her in the hall to talk Quidditch. In fact, Harry seemed to have gotten closer to Dean himself now that Ron was otherwise occupied in the evenings.  
  
When she was not studying, performing head girl duties, and attending Quidditch practices, Hermione was with her friends. She and Harry spent a great deal of time together, but not at the risk of anything romantic developing. They were best friends, now... better friends than ever, but there were limits to what one was willing to do with the other. Hermione was terrible at Quidditch, and Harry would only study as a last resort. He completely tuned her out when she started analyzing a spell or a potion.  
  
Luna and Neville were always entertaining, but were still stuck in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and Hermione wondered if it would ever end. Ernie Macmillan and Neville had become friends over the past year, and Hannah Abbott often showed up with Ernie as well.  
  
Despite seeing Harry, Ginny, Dean, Luna, Neville, Ernie, and Hannah every day, Hermione could not help feeling that something was missing. Perhaps it was the quasi-relationship with Ron she missed. Perhaps it was Ron's friendship. Perhaps she was just ready to graduate and start the next chapter of her life.


	8. An Unexpected Visitor

It seemed that Severus blinked, and suddenly it was time for the Halloween Feast. Thankfully, Minerva and Filius were happy to take care of the details and decorations, with the help of their students. Excitement was building among the professors and students over what promised to be the most interesting Halloween Feast since someone let a zombie loose in the Great Hall in 1824. The Screaming Banshees were donating a concert in honor of the faculty and students who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Margaret White was giving extra credit to any of her students who showed up in costume, in honor of Muggle traditions. The ghosts were to put on a parade during the meal, before leaving for the annual Deathday celebration.  
  
Indifferent to excitement the rest of the faculty seemed to have for the upcoming festivities, Severus marveled that the first weeks of the school year had passed quickly and uneventfully. It was a strange, unsettling, but ultimately welcome change from recent years at Hogwarts.  
  
Setting himself to the task of opening the day's mail, Severus noticed familiar script on the front of a thin letter. It was from Narcissa Malfoy.  
  
 _Severus,  
  
I thank you for your continued concern and determination to watch over Draco. It is true that he has become a different person since his father was taken to Azkaban. Before Draco left for Hogwarts, he said that he wants to finish his education at Hogwarts, and then plans to travel the world. He barely speaks to me, and did not say a word to his father before he was sentenced. You might better understand what Draco needs at this time, as you have been his protector for some time, and I believe he trusts you. Please keep me informed of his progress this year.  
  
N. Malfoy_  
  
  
It was a remarkably sedate response from Narcissa. If what she said was true, her precious son had abandoned her while Lucius was in Azkaban. She was likely under the near-constant influence of a Moderation Potion to keep her emotions in balance.  
  
However sincere Narcissa's request was, Severus did not believe that Draco trusted him. The young Slytherin man was avoiding him, as well as his old friends.  
  
The next letter was from a Mara Singleton, editor of _Young Witch_ magazine.  
  
 _Dear Headmaster Snape,  
  
It is my honor to inform you that our team here at Young Witch magazine has voted to offer the professors and students of Howarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a winter ball, to honor and thank those who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts this year.  
  
Our fundraising team has been hard at work bringing in donations that will fund the ball, as well as to provide financial support to the families of those who were lost in the battle.  
  
We also hope you will allow us to invite a few distinguished guests to the event, in order to both celebrate their generosity, and to encourage others to join them in donating to the Hogwarts Fund.  
  
Please let me know if you will accept this offer, as well as which dates are available during the winter season.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Mara Singleton_  
  
Severus felt his face fall into an expression of disgust at the thought of a such an event, which he would be obligated to attend to caress the egos of Ministry officials, wealthy witches and wizards, and surely quite a few obnoxious young celebrities. However, it would be an advantageous event for the school and the students, and he would suffer through it.  
  
Seizing his quill, he set Ms. Singleton's letter aside and began writing Narcissa a reply.  
  
 _Narcissa,  
  
Draco continues to excel academically. His spirits seem improved since the start of term, though I cannot offer any insight into his mind. He employs Occlumency against me, and has refused my advice and confidence. Draco has always desired independence, and I believe it is too soon for him to trust me after the events of recent years. Rest assured, he is safe at Hogwarts.  
  
S. S._  
  
Severus was interrupted by a soft chime, which announced that a visitor had entered the outer door of the headmaster's office and was waiting to ascend the spiral staircase. Severus flicked his wand at the door with curiosity. It was an unannounced and unexpected visitor, who did not know the second password that Severus had put in place to guard the stairs. Only a select few members of the staff were able to surprise him with a knock on the door to the office itself.  
  
Moments passed and no one appeared in the doorway. After listening to the silence in the room for a few more seconds, Severus stood and cautiously approached the opening to the staircase, wand at ready. He peered through the doorway.  
  
“Who's there?” he asked.  
  
“Professor Snape?”  
  
Harry Potter stood at the foot of the staircase. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.  
  
Severus tucked his wand away into his robes.  
  
“What is it, Potter?” he asked impatiently, though he was more curious than annoyed at the presence of the young man, who normally avoided Severus at all costs. Potter had been keeping a low profile since the start of the school year, something that had not escaped Severus' notice. The boy rarely left Hermione's side, and largely ignored the rest of his peers.  
  
“I – er – do you have a moment, sir?”  
  
Severus gestured for Potter to ascend, unable to find the appropriate words or tone to address the boy whom he had spent most of his adult life protecting, all the while ensuring that nobody – especially Potter or his classmates – would ever suspect such a thing could be true. Even though Severus had no affection for Harry Potter, he did sometimes regret how cruel he had felt it justified to be to the boy and his friends.  
  
It had become a game to provoke them in the name of secrecy, and he had told himself he was doing Potter a favor by taking him down a notch and exposing the boy's penchant for doing as he damn well pleased, regardless of the rules or danger to others (just like his father). After all, every other professor had been prepared to worship the ground Potter walked on, and Albus had given Severus strict orders to keep a close watch on the boy as he pursued various dangers and the Dark Lord, only intervening when absolutely necessary.  
  
Severus' relationship with Potter had been a constant source of nagging from Albus in the beginning; he had insisted that Severus should simply keep Harry at a distance, rather than actively encourage the animosity between them. However, Severus had known that nothing less would satisfy the Dark Lord once he returned, as Albus suspected would happen once Potter entered the magical world. Severus had been right – his contempt for Potter and Potter's obvious hatred of Severus had easily masked his true loyalties when his mind was open to Voldemort.  
  
There had been too much to dislike about Potter for Severus to treat him with bland indifference, if he had tried. When Harry Potter first came to Hogwarts, Severus had just learned of the second prophecy, and was grieving his mistakes with Lily and the events of her death anew; the loss of her love and her life were made as fresh and as devastating as when they occurred. The very sight of Potter in class was so painful that he adopted a villainous character in order to distract himself while teaching. He found that he was easily able to draw upon the feelings he had for James Potter. It helped that his son looked so very like him.  
  
As the impertinent boy with Lily's beautiful eyes (and without any remarkable intelligence or talent) got older, he began to think that he knew more about the importance of Occlumency and fighting Dark wizards than Dumbledore, Severus, and the entire Order of the Phoenix combined, putting his friends' lives in peril, and ultimately causing the death of his beloved godfather, with whom he shared his reckless bravado.  
  
None of the typical Gryffindor arrogance radiated from Potter now, as he followed Severus with his head bowed and hands shoved into his pockets.  
  
As Severus and Harry entered the office, Fawkes chirped a greeting to Potter, and ruffled his feathers happily before settling down onto his perch and watching them intently.  
  
Severus motioned for Potter to sit before folding himself into his desk chair.  
  
“Very well, Potter...”  
  
It was odd to see Potter sitting before him without a hint of defiance on his face.  
  
“Sir... I, uh... just wanted to say... thank you for helping Hermione. And, er, everything else. I know you did a lot for my friends who were at the school last year, and uh... thanks... for that.”  
  
Potter stood and pulled an envelope out of his pocket, and placed it on Severus' desk before turning to leave quietly.  
  
Severus reached toward the envelope, dumbfounded. What on earth could Potter have given him?  
  
He removed a few slips of paper, which appeared to be a short note written in Potter's near-illegible script and a newspaper clipping.  
  
 _Professor Snape,  
  
This interview has now been reprinted by_ The Magic Times. _I thought you might like to read it before it becomes national news.  
  
Harry_  
  
Severus frowned and slowly unfolded the newspaper article, which turned out to be a full two-page spread entitled “An Interview with The-Boy-Who-Lived: Harry Potter Talks About Friendship, Love, and Loyalty in Dark Times”. It had been clipped from _The GH Daily._ A photo of Potter, Weasley and his sister, and Hermione sat squarely in the middle of one page. The group was sitting on a couch, looking somberly into the camera, with arms around one another.  
  
 _A few weeks ago, this reporter had the honor of sitting down with Harry Potter, the chosen one, hero of the second war, and descendent of Godric Hollow's own war heroes, James and Lily Potter. Harry's parents are buried here in our humble town, the site where Harry and Voldemort's destiny began. After defeating Voldemort just a few short months ago, Harry took a pilgrimage to Godric's Hollow, and offered the GH Daily an interview. We happily accepted.  
  
 **It is an honor to speak with you, Mr. Potter. You must have a lot on your mind at this time, as you make decisions about your future without the oppression of blood purity laws and war. Where do you see yourself in five years?**  
  
HP: Yes... I have a lot of decisions to make, but at the moment I am just happy to be alive and to live in a world without Voldemort. The future could bring anything, I suppose.  
  
 **Do you know where you will be next year?**  
  
HP: If Hogwarts is open as planned, I will be there... completing my studies.  
  
 **And do you plan to become an Auror for the Ministry, as the rumors say?**  
  
HP: That is a definite option, yes.  
  
 **Or , perhaps we will get to see Harry Potter on the Quidditch pitch? The rumors also say you are captain of the Gryffindor team, and a skilled Seeker that any team would want to snap up.**  
  
HP: I... don't see a career in Quiddich in my future... but I do love the game. It has always been a way to escape for me.  
  
 **Ah, I see... the scouts will be quite disappointed to hear that! What about those who say that you will be our Minister of Magic one day?**  
  
HP: What? Uh, no. I don't see myself in politics. In fact, I'd be quite happy to never be in a newspaper again. No offense.  
  
 **None taken, Mr. Potter. Let's move on to more serious topics. You've spent the past seven years at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, but before that, you had no idea you were magical, is that right?**  
  
HP: Yes. I knew I was different, just like any Muggle-born wizard, but I didn't know anything about magic.  
  
 **Where did you live, all those years after the death of your parents? It was rumored that you were dead, you know.**  
  
HP: No, actually, I didn't. I was only eleven when I found out that everyone already knew who I was, and it was something I just tried to ignore... you know, because it made me uncomfortable. Everyone expected me to be this amazing wizard, and I didn't know anything about magic yet. Uh, and I lived with my mum's sister and her family, who are all Muggles. They knew about magic, but they hated it and never told me that I was a wizard, or that magic was real.  
  
 **Incredible! To think you came to Hogwarts knowing absolutely nothing about the wizarding world or the evil that you would eventually face! When did you learn that you were the chosen one?**  
  
HP: Well, by the time I found out, I was already determined to do whatever I could to stop Voldemort. Whether or not I knew about the prophecy, I would have helped finish what my parents fought for... and died for.  
  
 **I understand. What kept you on such a noble path? Were you ever tempted to give up, and simply enjoy your life as a young wizard at one of the most prestigious magical schools in the world?**  
  
HP: Of course there were times I wanted to just have fun and forget about Voldemort, but he was determined to get to me, and so... I was determined to fight him.  
  
 **What got you through those years? How did you manage, as a very young fellow new to the magical world, to find the strength to fight the darkest wizard of our times?**  
  
HP: Well... the more I found out about my parents, and their death... I wanted to make sure they had not died for nothing. And then I learned that part of the reason Voldemort couldn't kill me was because of my mother's love for me... her dying for me the way she did. It caused the curse to rebound on him. So that... was what made me keep fighting. That, and my friends at Hogwarts.... I couldn't have done it without them.  
  
 **What did your friends do to help you along the way?**  
  
HP: Oh, well.... everything. Those that stayed in the castle last year worked together with the teachers to keep everyone safe. A few of them came with me into hiding, and they are the reason I'm here right now. They are brilliant – smart, brave, strong, talented – and there were times I needed them to keep me from wanting revenge, at any cost. Knowing that he killed my parents, and wanted to ruin the magical world that I loved... it made me crazy, but they kept me on track.  
  
 **Speaking of Hogwarts, last year during the reign of terror... did you know at that time that Severus Snape was still loyal to Dumbledore?**  
  
HP: I knew nothing for certain. I had no way of communicating with those on the inside, but I know now that as headmaster, Professor Snape protected the students.  
  
 **What can you tell us about the mysterious Severus Snape? Were you close to him, in the years leading up to the battle at Hogwarts?**  
  
HP: Professor Snape is private person, and we were never close. I can tell you that he is a loyal and brave man, an incredibly talented wizard, and a strict teacher.  
  
 **There has been much public outcry about his appointment as Headmaster, and his decision to stay. Do you think that Severus Snape should be at Hogwarts?**  
  
HP: Yes, I do.  
  
 **And do you think that his presence will cause some parents to send their students elsewhere for a magical education? He is still a controversial figure, with his dark past and role as a spy.**  
  
HP: If anyone is worried about us students turning into Dark wizards, they should want Snape as headmaster. He survived the war as a spy under one of the most powerful Dark wizards of all time, and he is an expert in the Dark Arts after years of spying on Voldemort... who better to teach us about the dangers of Dark magic, or how to defeat it?  
  
 **Many still do not trust him. What would you say to them?**  
  
HP: That they should. Dumbledore trusted him, always.  
  
 **What about you, Harry Potter? Do you trust Severus Snape?**  
  
HP: Yes. I trust Severus Snape.  
  
 **Even though he was directly responsible for Dumbledore's death? Have you been able to forgive him for the death of your mentor?**  
  
HP: We know from the memories and, uh, written oath that Dumbledore left behind to clear Snape's name... it was part of the plan. Snape was acting on Dumbledore's orders. He was following his dying wishes.  
  
 **So, you knew nothing of this plan until the war ended?**  
  
HP: No. I knew that Dumbledore was very weak at the time of his death, but I did not know that he had been fatally cursed, or that he had asked Snape to be the one to take him out, if he was in danger of being captured by Voldemort. He wanted Snape to be able to get closer to Voldemort, after he was gone... it makes sense.  
  
 **And you are at peace with Dumbledore's death now?**  
  
HP: I am. He would have wanted that, and he would want Professor Snape to be at Hogwarts, for as long as he wants to stay.  
  
 **You've told us this will be your last interview, though surely you know there is still a lot of mystery surrounding the second rise of Voldemort and his ultimate defeat. Why the secrecy?**  
  
HP: There is still a lot that I don't understand... how it all worked out... but I know that Voldemort is gone for good this time. I just want to move on, and I hope that everyone else will, too._  
  
Severus carefully folded the clipping and slid it back inside the envelope.  
  
Severus had to admit that he was not unhappy with the interview that Potter had given, and especially pleased that he would supposedly give no others.  
  
As for the content of the article, Severus wondered if Potter had been coached. Some of his responses were far too calculated and vague to be straight from the boy's own mouth, on the spot.  
  
It felt strange to Severus to have no strong visceral reaction to reading what Potter said about him – instead he was uncharacteristically indifferent to the whole affair. Now that he did not have to spend every day worrying about how he would keep Potter alive and on the path to defeating the Dark Lord, at great personal risk, he could forget about the-boy-who-lived-to-drive-him-mad.  
  
He was not sure he believed that Potter trusted him. He, like everyone else, thought Severus would be a completely different person now that the war was over, no longer playing the part of a Death Eater. They wanted to trust him, but could they truly?  
  
It would be a lie to say that Severus did not feel any different. Ever since Hermione had broken Voldemort's curse, Severus had truly felt free from his past. The second prophecy had not been about Lily after all. While he still loved her memory, and always would, he had finally let go of the crushing regret over losing her love to James Potter. He could live for himself now, his own master.  
  
Severus had not expected to survive the war, and now that he miraculously had his life and his freedom, as well as the inexplicable trust of a few good people, he felt it might be worth living after all. Before, his only purpose in life had been to atone for his past and keep Harry Potter, the-most-obnoxious-hero-there-ever-was, alive long enough to defeat Voldemort.  
  
Yes, he would finally be able to ignore Harry Potter, as it seemed the boy was calling for a truce. Unless Potter got into especially egregious mischief this year, he might not ever have to speak to him again.  
  
Then, a terrible realization slammed into his thoughts.  
  
Potter had wisely omitted any mention of his search for Horcruxes while in hiding. He had also failed to reveal that he himself had been a Horcrux – because in all likelihood, he did not know.  
  
The boy had never looked at those memories. There had been no time.  
  
Severus had assumed – and desperately hoped – that somehow the part of Voldemort that lived in Harry was gone, but what if there was still a tiny fragment of an evil soul lodged in Potter's head? After all, Potter had survived, and that was not what Albus intended. Then again, it would have been just like Albus to suspect that Harry _would_ survive, and tell no one. Severus would have to watch the boy closely. Eventually he would have to tell him the truth, and attempt to determine whether he had any trace of the Dark Lord left in him.


	9. The Halloween Feast

In a few short hours it would be time for the Halloween Feast. Hermione was putting the finishing touches on her hair, a task that took no small amount of time. She rarely bothered to do much with her hair other than throw it into a bun, but when she put in the effort, she had to admit it transformed her appearance.  
  
A final swish of her wand over her head set the abundance of sleek waves cascading from her crown into a carefully arranged mane, where it would stay until she removed the charm before bed. It would be impossible to sleep on her tresses when charmed in this manner.  
  
Hermione, Ginny, and Luna were going in costume, even though they were not in Professor White's classes. The invitation was open to all students. Luna had begged Neville to do it, but he had been firm in his insistence that he would _not_ be showing up to his last Halloween feast wearing a silly costume. Hermione suspected his resistance had something to do with the new dress robes his grandmother had bought him for the occasion. In any case, Ginny had taken pity on Luna, and agreed to dress up. When they had asked Hermione what she would go as, she had taken the easy way out and said, “It's a surprise,” determined to find a costume idea that was both fun and attractive. It would not do for the head girl to waltz into the festivities looking ridiculous.  
  
After much deliberation she had decided to go as Gothilda Gryffindor, one of Godric Gryffindor's five daughters, known for her skill as a Potions mistress and the wealth that came with it.  
  
Hermione slipped into her old crimson dress robe, which looked like a completely different garment after her tedious spell-work the night before. The sleeves had been stretched into long, flowing bells, which shimmered with a slight golden translucence. Gothilda had been known for a secret potion that made her skin radiate a soft golden glow, so Hermione had imitated that glimmer in the fabric.  
  
The hemline had been lengthened so that it just brushed the floor, heavy with an added petticoat beneath the skirt. The modest round neckline had been modified into a square shape, and the bodice now had a delicate pattern stitched in gold thread that extended down to her hips, where it dissolved into the deep red skirt. If one looked closely, they would notice that the stitches melted away out of sight, rather than ending in logical designs. Hermione had borrowed the pattern from one of the tapestries in a forgotten part of the castle, and would replace it as soon as she dismantled her creation.  
  
Hermione stood in front of the mirror and turned from side to side, admiring her handiwork. The dress fit perfectly over her shoulders and chest, nipping in at her ribcage like a glove, and hugging her waist until just above her hips, where it flared out into a full skirt.  
  
Hermione carefully tied a gold scarf around her head at the nape of her neck, transforming her hair into an even larger mass of voluminous waves – Gothilda's fabled mane. To complete her ensemble, she placed a stoppered vial of shimmering liquid attached to a gold chain around her neck. It contained a simple laughing potion; Hermione had always liked the way it sparkled with happy golden light.  
  
Hermione had agreed to meet Harry and go down to the feast together. Ginny had already left, and Hermione was the last one to leave the dormitory. She found Harry waiting in the common room, wearing his dress robes, which were now quite a bit too small.  
  
Harry stood up and stared at her.  
  
“Wow, Hermione... great costume.”  
  
“Thanks,” she said. “Harry, you've gotten taller since Bill and Fleur's wedding, you know.”  
  
“Er – yes, I suppose I have,” said Harry, looking surprised. He probably had not even looked in the mirror while getting ready.  
  
“Here, let me fix it for you. Stand still a moment.”  
  
She worked delicately with the fabric for a few minutes before stepping back and smiling at her success.  
  
“Much better.”  
  
“Ah, thanks. Shall we?”  
  
The two of them left the common room, walking slowly toward the great hall. Suddenly Hermione punched Harry's arm playfully.  
  
“So, are you going to dance with me tonight, Harry?”  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
“Funny, Hermione.”  
  
Harry did not dance, as Hermione well knew.  
  
“Er – do you think there will be dancing this year? At the feast?”  
  
Hermione smiled at the nervous tone in Harry's voice.  
  
“I hope not,” she said, for she would have no one to dance with her.  
  
They arrived in the Great Hall just after a large group of giggling fifth year girls dressed as cornish pixies rushed through the doors.  
  
“Oh! Look, Harry, I think Neville wore a costume after all.”  
  
Neville was wearing his new black and grey dress robes, and looked surprisingly dashing. His wavy hair was tousled, and appeared to have been styled with holding potion. His skin shimmered, coated in a fine dusting of silver, and he was strikingly pale without his usual rosy round cheeks. In fact, his face was much thinner now, and Hermione realized that he must have grown a foot or so in the past year, as she watched him tower over Luna.  
  
“Hello, Neville,” she said as they approached. Neville spun around and smiled. He was sporting a set of vampire teeth that looked quite realistic.  
  
“Oh, so you're a vampire!” exclaimed Hermione. “I didn't think you would be in costume.”  
  
“Not just a vampire, Hermione,” he said. “I'm a _Muggle_ vampire. Haven't you heard? They sparkle!”  
  
Hermione laughed. “Ah... do they? I wasn't aware of that, and I grew up with Muggles.”  
  
Neville shrugged. “I heard some fourth years talking about Muggle vampire myths after their Muggle Studies class... apparently some Muggles think they sparkle in the sun.”  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I see. Interesting... well, you look great, Neville. Well done! You should definitely show Professor White your costume.”  
  
Luna was dressed as a Chimaera. She was wearing her famous lion hat and a white robe that appeared to be covered in hair, from under which a red dragon's tail poked out.  
  
“Where's Ginny?” Hermione asked Luna quietly, while Harry was listening to Neville talk about the plant he had harvested and crushed to make his sparkly face powder.  
  
“With Dean, Ron, and Padma,” said Luna serenely, her eyes fixing briefly on a point past Hermione's right shoulder before flicking back. Despite her calm tone, Hermione detected a hint of annoyance in Luna's large, pale eyes.  
  
Hermione casually turned to glance over her shoulder, and saw Ginny sitting with Dean and the others. She was dressed as a banshee, albeit with floor length red hair instead of black. She had added prominent dark circles under her eyes, and darkened her cheeks so that they appeared hollow under her cheekbones. Dean was obviously admiring her costume, a form-fitting sheath robe in pale green. He reached out and touched her hair before whispering something in her ear.  
  
 _So much for keeping their relationship to themselves,_ thought Hermione.  
  
More students filed in and began to take their seats at the tables for the feast. The lights flickered three times, signaling that the feast was about to start. Hermione, Harry, Luna, and Neville quickly found a place to sit, which happened to be next to Ernie and Hannah.  
  
“Please take your seats!”  
  
Professor McGonagall's amplified voice rang out over the din of the excited students' chatter.  
  
“Welcome to the Halloween Feast! I trust you are all starving, and ready to enjoy our meal. Before we get started, there are a few surprise guests that I must introduce.”  
  
Hushed whispers rose in volume as McGonagall cleared her throat.  
  
“The first is the editor of _Young Witch_ magazine, Ms. Mara Singleton, who has a special message for you this evening.”  
  
McGonagall led the applause for Singleton, a petite witch with a perfectly styled black bob wearing a floaty black chiffon robe that rippled like water as she walked. She also wore an orange necklace with large square stones and small glittering black baubles.  
  
“Oh, I LOVE her outfit!” Hermione heard Lavender screech from somewhere down the table.  
  
“Thank you, Professor,” said Singleton. “Hello, Hogwarts students! I am here tonight to thank you and honor you for your part in the war, and for your determination to stand against Voldemort in the Battle of Hogwarts. Young Witch has raised funds to give you a winter ball in appreciation and in celebration of the end of dark times.”  
  
A cheer went up with applause, but quickly died down as she held up a hand.  
  
“Wait, there's more!” She smiled. “In addition, we have started the Hogwarts Fund, which will exist to provide support to the students who lost family in the war, and to aid Muggle-born witches and wizards who wish to attend Hogwarts now and in the future.”  
  
More applause filled the hall, and Singleton waited patiently for it to die down before continuing.  
  
“And finally, I also have the pleasure of introducing the other special guests of the night – yes, there are a few of them. Students of Hogwarts, for your entertainment tonight, I give you... The Screaming Banshees!”  
  
Loud, high-pitched squeals filled the air as the members of the band burst through the doors of the great hall and ran through the tables to the front of the room. The lead singer, Eli Wharton, addressed them with a booming amplified voice.  
  
“Hogwarts! We love you guys so much! Ever since we heard about the students who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, we knew we wanted to meet you and give you a great show. We hope you enjoy it!”  
  
Wharton looked to McGonagall, who nodded before continuing.  
  
“Let us eat and be merry!” the singer exclaimed, playing a riff on his guitar. The band's setup appeared behind him. Eli's waist-length black hair shone in the candlelight, and his perfectly tailored and distressed robes showcased his muscled forearms. The rest of the band consisted of two women with long black hair wearing torn, waif-like attire and dramatic makeup. One, the percussionist, had an electric green stripe in her hair. The fourth member was a tall pale woman with hip-length platinum blonde hair. She wore layers of white and grey sheer fabric, artfully torn, folded, and pinned with antique brooches. Her eyes were a soft, pale blue, ringed with blonde eyelashes.  
  
More squeals of delight erupted from students as the band played a few bars, and the food appeared on the tables.  
  
“We will return after the meal!” shouted Eli, and the band joined Mara Singleton at the staff table.  
  
Hermione turned to the bounteous table before her, unable to decide what she would have first. She had learned the hard way in years past not to over-indulge at the best feast of the year.  
  
Harry was already halfway through his first plate by the time Hermione had carefully arranged her meal and taken a few sips of pumpkin juice.  
  
“Hermione, you haven't told us what your costume is,” said Neville.  
  
Before Hermione could answer, Luna nudged him.  
  
“She's Gothilda Gryffindor, of course,” she said looking around the table. “I thought everyone already knew that.”  
  
“Oh...” said Neville, obviously still confused.  
  
“Right,” said Harry, between bites. “Who wouldn't know that?”  
  
Neville ate a bite of roast thoughtfully.  
  
“And she was the one who...”  
  
Hermione sighed. “She was famous for her potions... one of Godric Gryffindor's daughters...”  
  
Neville still had a blank look on his face.  
  
“... she was the incredibly wealthy one, who covered herself in a secret gold-infused potion?”  
  
“Oh yeah!” said Neville, grabbing a warm roll from the basket next to him. “Er, didn't we learn that in our second year?”  
  
“Yes,” said Hermione. “She's also mentioned in – ”  
  
“ _Hogwarts: A History,_ ” said Harry suddenly, in unison with her. They shared a knowing look and a smile as Neville and Ernie laughed, and Luna looked mildly entertained.  
  
Neville and Ernie fell into comfortable conversation as their stomachs filled, and Luna slipped into her thoughts, her eyes going far away, a slight smile on her face.  
  
Hermione finished her meal, allowing her thoughts to take over her mind as well. Her eyes scanned the great hall, stopping briefly on Professor White, who had apparently finished her meal, and was standing by a group of third year boys dressed as pirates. Hermione watched as the professor admired the details of the costumes, and then gave each student a handful of sweets from the bag she carried on one shoulder.  
  
Hermione was still fascinated by Margaret White, and keenly felt the loss of never having such a remarkable teacher for Muggle Studies. A pang of guilt hit her, as she remembered who White had been hired to replace. The lessons had been perfectly fine before, only boring for Hermione since she had grown up in the Muggle world.  
  
It was incredible that Professor Snape had been able to bring her to Hogwarts. With that thought, Hermione's eyes flicked to the head table, where Snape sat between McGonagall and the unearthly pale woman from the band.  
  
Professor Snape seemed to be deep in thought, rather than bored to tears as Hermione had expected. Suddenly, he turned and spoke to the singer on his left. The woman smiled, nodded, and replied. The conversation continued for a few minutes, both parties looking rather serious. Hermione found herself admiring the stark contrast between the two: the wispy, ghost-like woman in whimsical robes sitting next to the angular, heavily-cloaked man in black from head to toe. Snape's face was obscured by his usual curtains of hair, but Hermione could still see the distinctive slope of his nose and watch his lips move with quietly spoken conversation.  
  
“Hey, Hermione... Hermione?”  
  
“Uh – what?” she said, surprised to find that Ernie had finished his meal and moved from across the table to seat himself at Hermione's side.  
  
“Thanks for helping me out in Charms today.”  
  
“Oh, well... you're welcome,” she said, trying to remember why he was thanking her.  
  
Ernie blushed. “I can't believe I forgot such a basic spell, especially with you in my group. What must you think of me?”  
  
“You've had a lot on your mind,” Hermione said kindly. Ernie had not been taking his breakup with Gretchen well and had become exceedingly forgetful and inattentive in class.  
  
“I _have_ had a lot to think about, lately, especially in Charms,” said Ernie, rather mysteriously. “It doesn't help that you are there at the next table, in all your perfection, adding to my... distraction.”  
  
Across the table, Hermione saw Hannah turn and stare at the back of Ernie's head intently. Hermione met Hannah's gaze, and was greeted with a look of surprise and disapproval. Suddenly, something became clear to Hermione that should have already become obvious in the past few weeks.  
  
“I hope you won't mind me asking you something, Hermione,” said Ernie, his face now a spectacular shade of pink.  
  
“I – erm... ah, perhaps we should talk later,” Hermione said quickly. “It looks like the band is getting ready to play. I, uh, just LOVE them, you know!”  
  
Hermione fixed her attention on Eli and the band, who were taking the stage at the front of the room and calling for the students' attention with guitar riffs and raised arms. Applause rose and quickly died out as Eli shouted, “All right, Hogwarts! Let's get this party started!”  
  
The first few bars of an upbeat anthem washed over the room, and Hermione had never been so grateful for loud music in her life. Many students soon left their seats to dance in the aisle, some forming a group at the front of the room. Ernie settled in beside her, sitting far too close for comfort. Hermione sat awkwardly beside him for a few minutes, pretending to be extremely interested in the band.  
  
Finally, Hermione turned to Harry and nudged him with her elbow.  
  
“Harry, let's dance!” she said loudly over the music.  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
“Go ahead, I'm not stopping you!”  
  
Hermione grabbed his arm.  
  
“I want to dance with you. Now!”  
  
She stood up, taking a surprised Harry with her, and led him into the crowd of writhing students. Casting a quick spell to dampen the noise around their conversation, Hermione grabbed Harry's shoulders as he shouted, “Hermione, WHAT is going on?!”  
  
Hermione winced at his volume.  
  
“Ernie Macmillan was about to ask me out,” she said. “He isn't upset about Gretchen... he's got a crush on me. That's why he's been so odd lately!”  
  
Harry laughed, grabbed her hands and removed them from his shoulders. Unexpectedly, he started pushing her arms back and forth to the music, bobbing awkwardly.  
  
“You just ran away from Ernie Macmillan as he was confessing his love for you?!”  
  
“YES! It's not funny, Harry! Poor Ernie... I just... can't....”  
  
“You left him as he was pouring his heart out, so that you could dance with me instead?”  
  
“I... well, I had to do something!”  
  
Harry pushed her away from him and then pulled her back by her hands, grinning.  
  
“You are a horrible person, Hermione Granger!”  
  
“Harry, STOP! I know... and Hannah heard it all, too.”  
  
“So...?”  
  
“SO!” Hermione smacked his shoulder. “She LIKES him, Harry. Isn't that obvious?”  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
“You really are an awful friend, aren't you?”  
  
“YES!” Hermione wailed. “And now I... I have to leave. Ernie wants to talk and I can't.... he – oof!”  
  
Harry suddenly wrapped her in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. As he set her back down, Hermione realized that the music had stopped, and the band was introducing a new song over sound of the first few melancholy notes.  
  
“Before this night gets too crazy, I want to play you a very special song. If you haven't found a dance partner yet, get on it! This one is too good to sit out. Here is my lovely partner, Sirene, on the vocals.”  
  
The tall blond singer took the spotlight.  
  
 _I took a chance with you  
Falling from such a surprising height  
I never knew  
I had been walking around with wings on my head  
Feet in the sky, looking down  
So cold and alone  
High on my throne_  
  
“Hermione.”  
  
She turned her attention back to Harry, who awkwardly pulled her closer and started swaying.  
  
“Harry, you really don't have to – ”  
  
“I can do one dance for you, Hermione. Then we can go.”  
  
Hermione smiled, appreciating the sacrifice on Harry's part, but he really was a terrible dancer. She rested her chin on his shoulder and shuffled her feet carefully. Across the room, Ginny danced with Dean. Hermione was glad Harry was facing the opposite direction and she would try to keep it that way as long as possible.  
  
 _I was made of stronger magic  
I didn't need anyone..._  
  
Hermione's eyes wandered to the couples scattered over the floor in front of the band and up to the silhouettes of the professors sitting at the high table, backlit by dozens of flickering candles. Some of the faculty were on the dance floor, and the rest were mingling with students. Mara Singleton had accepted a dance from Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Flitwick was charming the jack-o-lanterns to flicker in time with the music. Only Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were left at the table, their faces dimly illuminated by the pale blue glow emanating from the stage. Both seemed to be deep in thought, though McGonagall may have been drifting off, since her eyes were closed.  
  
The music swelled and Sirene's voice rose with it as the drummer picked up the beat. The stage lights grew brighter and warmer. Hermione felt a chill creep across her back, which was now facing Ginny and Dean's vicinity. She quickly maneuvered Harry around to face the back wall.  
  
Hermione's eyes were drawn to Professor Snape again, his face now a clearly visible mask of indifference beyond a sea of swaying couples.  
  
 _But for you I tumbled  
I fell while watching you from my silent perch  
I was a bird without a song  
Whispering hoarse reassurances to myself  
Until my misused voice found a reason to call out_  
  
Sirene started to wail powerfully as the chorus crescendoed, and Hermione felt her heart pick up pace when Snape seemed to notice her gaze. Almost imperceptibly, his expression changed, and he shifted in his chair before looking back toward the stage.  
  
 _As I fell, I screamed your name  
The sound was raw, but rang out clearly  
And mercifully, you heard me  
Turning, you held out your arms  
You caught me and you freed me_  
  
Hermione could not imagine that Snape found any part of the festivities enjoyable. Though she had been excited for the Halloween Feast, Hermione herself was already longing to draw a bath and settle down with a book for the rest of the night.  
  
 _And for you I sang  
The sound was pure and fearless  
Even though I was breathless  
From falling though the dark  
And finding you were there_  
  
The music was sublime and the words moving. Hermione felt a bit of sadness seep into her thoughts as she watched her peers embrace one another, sharing whispered conversations as they danced.  
  
Whether or not it was her imagination, it seemed that Snape was again watching her drift in a slow circle with Harry. He was certainly looking in her direction, but she was only one student in a growing crowd on the dance floor. He could be looking at anyone else, or simply sitting with his eyes glazed over waiting for the evening to end.  
  
Anyone observing would probably think that she and Harry were a couple. Snape would not be the only person to disapprove of that hypothetical relationship, Hermione realized. In fact, there would be very few people who would be happy for them. Ginny would never forgive her, Ron would insist that she had liked Harry all along, Ernie would be crushed, Hannah would be sick of hearing about Hermione's new love interest, and the rest of the school would gossip about them. All the girls with crushes on Harry would hate her, and everyone else would wonder what Harry saw in his boring, bookish, perfectionist friend. Neville and Luna, of course, would be thrilled.  
  
Despite his uncharacteristic sweetness in dancing with her, Hermione could not date Harry. He was like the brother she never had, and she had loved him as family for years now. Besides, Harry needed someone like Ginny – a social butterfly to get him out of his own head, who would bluntly tell him when he was being stupid or obsessive, and who could share his love of Quidditch and flying. As much as she loved Harry, Hermione knew without a doubt that it would be a disaster if she tried to date someone like him... for example, Ron. She needed someone who could have a long conversation about something other than Quidditch, to start with, and who actually enjoyed reading, at the very least.  
  
Hermione glanced back up at Professor Snape, remembering the sound of his voice, and the sensation of his thoughts meeting hers as he read to her in the infirmary while she was paralyzed by the curse. He had been the only thing that kept her from giving up at times.  
  
Perhaps there was a Professor Snape out there for her, without the mysterious unsavory past and preference for dressing like a goth Muggle teen's fantasy. While his demeanor had changed for the better since the war ended, he still wore black from head to toe every day, broken up only by crisp white shirt cuffs and collars, and the occasional grey sweater or Slytherin green scarf.  
  
 _Although,_ Hermione thought, surveying his shadowed figure. _I couldn't imagine him any other way... it suits him to look dark and brooding... with his unusual, sort of striking features..._  
  
Hermione blushed as she caught herself appraising his appearance. It was his intelligence and analytical mind that she admired, and his loyal, self-sacrificing determination to save her from Voldemort's curse. There was a brilliant, good, and thoughtful man underneath the aloof persona, as she and perhaps only a handful of other people were aware.  
  
It was at that moment that it occurred to Hermione that she might have just developed a crush on the headmaster of Hogwarts as a seventh year student.  
  
If Hermione had wished she could Apparate away when Ernie approached her earlier, it was nothing compared to what she now felt. It seemed possible that she might actually die of embarrassment right there on the dance floor. Thankfully, the only person in the room who could have an inkling of what was going on in her head was currently engrossed in conversation with Professor McGonagall. No one would ever know about her unexpected and mortifying new feelings for Severus Snape.


	10. The Plan

Severus sipped his wine and contemplated Minerva's advice.  
  
“Do I seem the sort of wizard who would ever marry?”  
  
“Do _I_?” she countered, and smiled at Severus' reaction.  
  
“I'll have you know that though I consider myself thoroughly independent and happily so, my married years were the best of my life. Dear Bartholomew was a wonderful partner.”  
  
Severus marveled at how little he knew about the older Professor.  
  
“How long did it last?”  
  
She cleared her throat. “We were married ten years before Bartholomew died, the day after my fiftieth birthday...”  
  
She trailed off, looking misty-eyed. “We had been lovers for years before the marriage. I was never interested in it, was determined I would never want a husband, but he was such a romantic that he finally won me over.”  
  
Severus was silent, watching Hermione again as she danced with Potter. His heart had sunk earlier when he noticed them together. They were always together, but it was now undeniable that Potter had finally realized his friend was worth pursuing. Only time would tell if dating Potter would end with Hermione never reaching her full potential as the brightest witch of her time at Hogwarts. Severus had hoped that if anyone, she would be able to resist the simple charms of the boy-who-lived.  
  
“I was twenty-one when we met and he was nearly forty-five,” Minerva continued reminiscing. “Back then it was a bit unusual but not unheard of... that age difference would turn more than a few heads today, now that we take Muggle lifespans into account.”  
  
Severus made a small sound of acknowledgement. He had seen firsthand the relationship problems that arose with the different rates of aging between magical folk and Muggles. His despicable Muggle father had obsessively worried about the men his mother might meet later in her long life as a witch, after Tobias was dead. When he became wrinkled, pudgy, and grey, and she seemed to never age, he soon became so jealous and possessive of her that he forbade her from leaving the house at all when Severus was eight years old.  
  
“Here I am, the age he was when he died, and I can't believe how young he was when he was taken from me. I like to think I've got at least thirty more years of teaching ahead of me.”  
  
“Don't be ridiculous, Minerva, you know you will want to retire in ten.”  
  
She chuckled. “Hardly. I wouldn't know what to do with myself.”  
  
She slipped into a pensive silence, her eyes closed. Severus could feel a warmth in her thoughts that told him she was reliving decades-old memories.  
  
Severus tended to agree that Minerva McGonagall had a long life still ahead of her. Her black bun showed only a handful of silver streaks, and her stern face was creased only slightly around the eyes. She was still strong and vibrant in her seventies, a time when many witches and wizards began show signs of aging and their magical strength peaked. Magical lifespans varied greatly. Some did not peak until they reached one hundred years of age, while some started to decline in their sixties.  
  
Taking another sip from his goblet, Severus allowed himself to listen to the lyrics of the slowly intensifying love song being sung by the ethereal Sirene. She had spoken to him at dinner as if he she were star struck, a disconcerting feeling for Severus considering she was part of an internationally famous band that met celebrities on the regular.  
  
Hermione was looking at him again, he noticed. She was resting her head on Potter's shoulder, swaying slowly to the music. He felt something like sadness rise up in his throat at the thought of Hermione Granger with Potter, who despite his recent actions and seemingly reformed attitude, was still lazy and frankly quite dim.  
  
Hermione was dressed in costume, as were many of the students regardless of whether or not they were taking Muggle Studies. She looked much older than usual, and was stunning this evening, as many of her male peers seemed to have noticed. Her rather plain, delicate features, wild frizzy hair always in a bun, un-tailored school robes that swallowed her petite frame, and her disinclination to spend time enhancing her appearance with beautifying spells like most young witches, meant that when she did dress up, the effect was eye-catching.  
  
Her hair had been tamed into flowing, luxuriant curls that were held back by a gold head scarf. Between the hairstyle, the golden glow of her dress, and the vial of shimmering gold potion around her neck, there was no doubt that she was dressed as Gothilda Gryffindor. It was not surprising that she would choose an actual historical figure, rather than a mythical creature as her costume.  
  
Severus endeavored to stop staring at the young couple, and turned his attention back to the band as the song started to wind down. However, he could not resist seeking out Hermione's mind in the chaos of the many other students radiating sappy, romantic daydreams. There was a pocket of embarrassment somewhere in her vicinity, and some nervousness, but no other emotions stood out. He had no doubt that if he made eye contact, it would still be possible to speak to her with his thoughts. After all, she had been able to say 'thank you' to him during the ceremony in the great hall at start of term.  
  
“Sorry we're late!” shouted Nearly Headless Nick, as the ghost parade appeared in the great hall, interrupting the dying notes of Sirene's song. Some of the students cheered, while others looked uncertain about what was taking place.  
  
The band played a festive march as the parade commenced. The ghosts made a lap around the hall, and then started mingling with the students, delighting in the squeals of surprise as they appeared next to unsuspecting first years. With the beat of drumsticks, the band launched into another fast-paced song, and the ghosts joined the students on the dance floor.  
  
Severus saw Hermione and Potter weave their way out of the crowd, heading for the doors. He watched Harry put an arm around Hermione's shoulders and usher her out of the room, and his stomach turned unpleasantly.  
  
Now that the music was loud and pounding again, Severus found that his head was beginning to pound as well. He decided to make a few rounds through the castle and gardens to make sure no wayward students were sneaking about where they should not be, in search of secluded snogging spots.  
  
As he passed through the hall, Severus realized that he had yet to see Draco make an appearance. He had not been with the Slytherin students during the feast. It would not help his sickly physique to skip meals, and it was unlike Draco to shun his peers so completely. Like his father, the boy had greatly enjoyed having followers to surround him. Though, Severus had to admit, it would be good for Draco to get away from his usual gang of Slytherins if he was indeed attempting to put his past behind him.  
  
Almost an hour of pacing the castle later, Severus had seen no sign of Hermione and Potter, but had caught several couples trying to sneak into the closed library. He walked back to the courtyard, noticing that his mere presence sent another couple scurrying off to their respective dormitories. Surveying the empty benches, he chose one and sat down in the bright moonlight. It was a breezy evening, yet unseasonably warm for October.  
  
Severus could not help letting his thoughts come to rest on Hermione Granger once more. Perhaps he should suggest that Minerva speak with her about her future, to remind her of the incredible potential she possessed magically and academically. In a few weeks, he would ask her professors to review her work to see if they could recommend that she take any N.E.W.T.s early. If she were able to complete the N.E.W.T.s for even a few subjects before the new year, she would be able to start a post-graduate project, or take on an apprenticeship in her preferred area of study. It would be a lot of work, yes, but it would keep her focused on her future, and she would have less time to spend with Potter.  
  
Severus supposed it would not do to allow only Hermione the chance to catch up on her lost seventh year. There were a few Ravenclaws who had missed or were repeating their seventh year as well, who might also be up to the task of preparing for the N.E.W.T.s by mid-year.  
  
With enrollment down, it would be possible to offer a few accelerated classes for the purpose of cramming a year's worth of study into one semester and getting those students closer to a career in a timely manner. Professor Valera had a light course load, and could surely cover another section of Ancient Runes. Flitwick and McGonagall would likely jump at the chance to work with a handful of the most talented Transfiguration students in the evenings. Horace could be predicted to refuse any extra work – it would cut into his time with the 'Slug Club'. No matter, Severus himself could offer Potions and Defense classes during the day. That would leave Herbology and Arithmancy (which, due to the nature of the subjects and assigned projects, must last an entire school year), Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creatures. As far as Severus knew, no seventh year students who would qualify for early N.E.W.T.s were interested in further study in those areas – Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, and Potions were by far the most popular subjects for N.E.W.T. graduates to pursue after leaving Hogwarts.  
  
Satisfied with his decision, Severus let his mind wander again. He suddenly realized that for the first time in many years, he had not spent Halloween thinking about Lily's death. The words of the second prophecy, seared into his mind permanently years ago, rose to the surface of his thoughts.  
  
 _The Dark Lord’s servant will forsake him, the disloyal one will be saved by a woman’s innocent sacrifice... she his sworn enemy’s companion, she his mind’s equal… and through love for her he will thwart his master, but if he be not with her he will be condemned to a traitor’s fate… and only if she returns his love can he escape the Dark Lord’s curse that binds… the one the Dark Lord trusts will be redeemed by an innocent woman._  
  
If only he had known years ago that the prophecy was not about Lily, he would have been able to mourn the loss of her love and her death properly. Severus could not help feeling that at some point, he should tell Hermione that she, like Potter, had been the subject of a prophecy.  
  
Severus was still waiting for Hermione to question him further about Voldemort's curse. _He_ knew why it had been broken, but how long could she accept that it was mysteriously gone? Perhaps she was just happy to be alive and well for the moment, but it was likely that she would seek him out for an answer in the future.  
  
The answers Severus had were murky at best. He knew that love magic, like that which saved Potter from Voldemort's hand when Lily sacrificed herself, had something to do with it, but how exactly the curse was both mitigated and broken by love was a mystery. In fact, Hermione had only accidentally thrown herself in front of the curse, and some of it had still hit Severus. So, it's power had been diluted by hitting two people, one of which was not the intended target.  
  
The fact that Voldemort had created a curse specifically for Severus likely meant that he wanted to punish Severus for what he saw as his greatest flaw, the only thing that had ever caused him to doubt Severus' true loyalty to blood purity. His affection for Lily had been known to the Dark Lord, though not the extent of his involvement with her. Severus had been made to pay dearly for revealing some of those precious memories to his Dark master in a moment of weakness during an interrogation early on. After that, he had been able to cover his feelings for her with his hatred of her husband and son. When Voldemort searched his mind, Severus made the Dark Lord think he hated Lily just as much, using the intensity of his anger and bitterness as a shield around her memories. Voldemort had often mocked Severus for his romantic thoughts regarding a _Mudblood._  
  
Perhaps Voldemort _had_ tailored the soul-starvation curse – a traitor's curse – to Severus, using the most glaring weakness he had ever seen in his trusted spy as inspiration. Perhaps it could only be broken by a kiss from a Muggle-born witch. Or perhaps it was just inexplicable love magic that had broken the spell. The curse was undoubtedly the experimental Dark Magic of a sick mind, and perhaps it had not even worked as Voldemort had planned. They would really never know.  
  
There was no reason to tell her about the prophecy until she started asking questions about the curse. Perhaps she never would, and they could both be satisfied simply to be free from the last curse Voldemort ever uttered.  
  
Severus was happy to be free from the curse, happy to have a life to live after the war, and happy to have colleagues that he mostly liked and respected, but he found that the loneliness which he had repressed and ignored as a spy hung heavy and cold over his shoulders like a thick frozen cloak, now that his life was filled with only the mundane tasks of running a school. For years, there had been a mission to follow, the challenge of keeping both himself and Potter alive, reporting to two masters, and protecting the innocent whenever he could... it had been plenty to distract him after hours as Potions professor and headmaster.  
  
Teaching a few advanced classes would help, he decided. Additionally, he must find a new project in which to immerse himself. He had not had time for purely selfish academic pursuits in years.  
  
These things settled, Severus stood, finally feeling the chill of the evening in his extremities. He wandered back toward the great hall to see quite a few students still gathered for the last song of the evening. Professor White was standing at the back of the room near the doors, and she greeted him as he entered.  
  
“Severus, how are you this lovely evening?”  
  
“As well as can be expected,” he said. “I see you have ridden yourself of that enormous bag of sweets.”  
  
“Ah, yes, I became quite generous a few minutes ago and gave them out by the handful to some second years. I expect they'll be up all night.”  
  
“It is for that reason we shall both be thankful we are not a head of house,” said Severus.  
  
White smiled merrily and laughed. She walked with Severus as he made his way back to his seat at the front of the room. Joining him, she sat down heavily.  
  
“Oh, I've been on my feet too long!” she said. “I know a witch isn't supposed to tell her age, but at nearly 68, this old fool is wearing heels.”  
  
Severus smirked at her. “You don't look a day over forty, as you well know.”  
  
“Oh, shush,” she said. “No more flattery from such a young thing as yourself, it's simply cruel. You know, if I was even close to forty, Professor Bartram and I would be fighting over you.”  
  
“You are shameless,” he said. “And if I find that you are putting fool notions into Bartram's head...”  
  
Severus trailed off, watching her attempt to transfigure her shoes into comfortable flats, muttering the spell a few times under her breath before tapping her wand to complete the transformation.  
  
“The spells are slowly coming back to me,” she said. “After all those years in hiding as a Muggle, I'm surprised I remember how to be a witch. And Severus, there is nothing fool about the notion that Bartram fancies you. I had nothing to do with it, though I can easily understand her attraction to you.”  
  
“Apparently I have unrivaled charms thus undiscovered by most women,” Severus said flatly.  
  
“Oh no, you are not charming,” she said chuckling a bit. “You're a mysterious, sarcastic bastard who has been found to have quite a noble character underneath it all. The younger witches are too immature to see that you were a sensitive soul forced into callousness by life – they just find you tall, dark, and intriguing.”  
  
Severus was raised a brow. “And with such traits, you assume witches are falling at my feet?”  
  
“It doesn't hurt that you have such a wonderfully powerful, yet restrained presence... and are quite striking to the eye.”  
  
“What are you about, witch? To what end do you endeavor to flatter me?”  
  
White smiled. “To see you let down your guard for once, Headmaster, and to remind you that you are not as wretched and unlikeable as you try to convince yourself.”  
  
After a moment of shocked silence at the woman's impertinence, Severus gestured to the the pale, dark-haired beauty having a lively chat with Professor Slughorn. She flashed a cheeky smile and the rotund Potions professor guffawed and kissed the younger witch's hand with a flourish.  
  
“And you would have me accept the advances of such a tart,” Severus said wryly.  
  
White leaned back in her chair and shook her head.  
  
“Now, Severus, all I'm saying is that she's not completely cracked for attempting to seduce you every time she sees you. A shameless flirt and a bit vain, she may be, but I don't believe she would set her sights on an unworthy prize.”  
  
Cheering and applause interrupted their banter as the band finished their final song. McGonagall took the stage once more to thank the band and to dismiss the students for the evening. As soon as the hall was cleared, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout began dismantling the decorations with quick flourishes of their wands.  
  
“Headmaster Snape,” said Mara Singleton, floating towards him like a tiny, Dark fairy in her flowing dress, extending her hand. “ _Thank you_ for having me and allowing us to throw the winter ball. Everything is coming together quite nicely. Your students are going to _love_ it!”  
  
“Thank you,” said Severus. “I am sure it will be – an unforgettable evening.”  
  
Singleton's dark almond eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to speak to him.  
  
“I do hope you will spend more time at the ball than you did here this evening,” she said. “I noticed you disappeared soon after the band started playing. Don't tell me you despise these events – I would feel terrible for imposing two of them on you this year!”  
  
“Impose as you will,” said Severus. “They are not for my enjoyment.”  
  
“Well,” she said, after a pause. “I do hope to see you in December. Perhaps you will consider saving me a dance?”  
  
Without waiting for a reply, she glided away leaving a stunned Severus in silence.  
  
The long evening over at last, Severus put himself to bed earlier than usual, without even glancing at the stack of books on the bedside table.  
  
The next morning, he caught Minerva before breakfast and told her of his plan for the accelerated classes. Together, they came up with a list of students, and by the time lunch was over, all professors involved had agreed to it.  
  
The heads of house would meet with the students that afternoon to discuss their schedules. By the end of the week, everything would be in place and the new classes would start on Monday. Severus would have the most work to do in preparation, but he was confident that even teaching Defense would be a breeze with familiar material and a small class of advanced seventh year students.  
  
In addition to Hermione, the other students to be given the option of taking some of their N.E.W.T.s early were Anthony Goldstein, Lisa Turpin, Su Li, and Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw, Wayne Hopkins and Ernie MacMillan from Hufflepuff, and Tracey Davis from Slytherin.  
  
Severus had to admit that he was looking forward to teaching again. It would be a much pleasanter experience with a handpicked class of competent students. He found he was quite looking forward to seeing what the cream of the crop were capable of accomplishing.


	11. The Professor Returns

Hermione woke groggily to the sound of her usual charmed birds squawking frantically over her head and Crookshanks batting lazily at her feet.  
  
Monday had come too soon; or rather, Hermione had stayed up far too late the night before, reading. The night before that, she and Harry had been up late with Hagrid, sneaking out of the castle under the invisibility cloak after curfew. Now that they had survived the war together, Hagrid had even less qualms with their rule breaking, especially if it was in order to pay him a special visit and share a pint while reminiscing.  
  
After listening to Hagrid outline the entire semester of lessons he had planned for Neville in Care of Magical Creatures, they covered the topics of the new faculty and the upcoming Quidditch matches before Hagrid broached a new subject.  
  
“Uh, right then... Harry, Hermione... I saw the two of yeh at dancin' at the feast.”  
  
Hagrid had coughed loudly after that pronouncement.  
  
“An' I suppose it's no coincidence that Ron hasn't come ter visit this evenin'.”  
  
Hermione's eyes widened, and Harry started to stammer.  
  
“No – Hagrid, that's – that's not...”  
  
“Now, hold on, Harry! I jus' wanna say, that I love yeh both, an' I'm not sayin' he hasn't done nothin' wrong, but yeh can't jus' forget about him now tha' yer, ah, well...”  
  
“Hagrid!” Hermione cut in loudly. “Harry and I are just friends! Ron's not here because.... well, because he's a prat!”  
  
“That's right,” chimed in Harry. “He's the one who kissed Hermione, then started going out with Padma while she was cursed!”  
  
“Harry!” exclaimed Hermione, blushing. Hagrid did not need to know _everything._  
  
“Ah, well... didn't know abou' all that... haven't gotten to talk to yeh in a while...”  
  
The three of them took a silent moment to swig their drinks.  
  
“Look, Hermione... I've been wantin' to tell yeh again tha' I'm sorry I didn't get ter visit yeh while yeh were laid up in the infirmary, what with takin' care of Grawp and all. I know Professor Snape took right good care of yeh, though, and of course yer friends were there with yeh. Sad to hear abou' Ron... that's a shame... to lose such a good friend after all yeh wen' through...”  
  
“Hagrid, where is Grawp these days?” asked Hermione suddenly.  
  
“Ah, well...” said Hagrid, fidgeting with his robe. “He's livin' in our old cave from the war still... sometimes he comes into the forest, but I think it makes him sad an all... rememberin' the battle. He doesn't like to come onto the grounds. He was gettin' lonely out there... so I let him keep Fang.”  
  
“Oh, Hagrid,” said Hermione, with heartfelt concern. “I was wondering where Fang was...”  
  
“It's too bad there aren't any other small giants we know of,” said Harry. “So he could have a friend that's – er – closer to his size.”  
  
An unexpected crash and the clattering of various enormous utensils falling off of Hagrid's wash sink made Harry and Hermione jump out of the seat they were sharing.  
  
“Hagrid, please tell me that – _thing_ – isn't about to eat us,” said Harry, sounding rather more calm than he appeared, wand in hand, the other arm pushing Hermione behind him.  
  
“Easy there, Harry,” chuckled Hagrid. “That's just Fang's replacement. Meet Nettie! Here, Nettie!” he called to the enormous black panther-like shape in the window. “Come here, now, that's a good girl.”  
  
The creature was across the room in two fluid leaps, and started twining through the legs of the table, staring at Hermione and Harry suspiciously with large amber eyes.  
  
“Ah, now, stop scarin' the company, will you,” said Hagrid affectionately, scratching her behind the ears. The giant feline was about as tall as a medium-sized dog, with a thick, shiny, short coat that rippled over a well-muscled body. She was speckled with faint dark grey spots all over and tiny flecks of white on her hindquarters and paws. Her large ears were perked forward as she studied Hagrid's guests and sniffed the air, and her whip-like, lightly tufted tail lay at rest curled around her.  
  
“Hagrid, is she... part Kneazle?” asked Hermione, wondering if the other part of the creature's lineage was some kind of jungle cat. She was much larger than Crookshanks, who was already quite large for his kind.  
  
Nettie crooked her head at Hermione's voice, and the corners of her lips seemed to curl ever so slightly.  
  
“Yeh might say that,” said Hagrid opaquely. “Isn't she a beautiful thing? I met her in the woods while me an' Grawp were in hidin'. She's an independent one, likes to disappear from time to time, but she always comes back.”  
  
Nettie stretched out her enormous paws and lay down, flopping onto her side and purring loudly.  
  
“Ah, look,” said Hagrid. “She likes you lot.”  
  
“I wouldn't have thought you were a cat person,” said Harry. “But I suppose she is rather more... uh, special... than most cats...”  
  
And rather more dangerous, thought Hermione. Kneazles were wonderfully smart, helpful animals, but only toward witches and wizards that they particularly liked. Cat-Kneazles were considerably less risky as pets, since Kneazle blood was mixed with a domesticated house pet. If what she was looking at was something like a Jaguar-Kneazle, it was quite an amazing feat that it had been tamed, if indeed it had been. Hagrid had a remarkable understanding of dangerous magical creatures, and the ability to form a kinship with them that others could only marvel at... but he had terrible judgement about his mythical friends' true nature towards those to whom they were not as loyal.  
  
“Harry, we really should be getting back to the castle. It's quite late.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Harry. “I suppose you're right. I've got practice early in the morning.”  
  
He pulled out the invisibility cloak, which seemed to startle Nettie, who leapt up and came over to sniff at the hem.  
  
“Well, goodbye, then,” said Hagrid, with a bit of disappointment. “Until next time.”  
  
“Good night, Hagrid,” said Hermione. “Oh!”  
  
Nettie was rubbing against her legs. She butted her head into Hermione's hand for a head pat. Hermione gingerly obliged, and the big cat purred happily.  
  
They had snuck back into the castle with ease that night, under the cloak. Without Ron, they both fit under it rather well if they walked carefully.  
  
Hermione rolled over in bed and playfully tapped Crookshanks on the nose.  
  
“All right, all right, I'm up!” she said.  
  
Hermione hurried through the motions of getting ready for the school day. She was anxious to get to class – it was the first day of her advanced classes. She would have her usual Arithmancy class in the morning, followed by advanced DADA. After lunch, it was Herbology, and that evening advanced Transfiguration.  
  
Quickly fighting her hair into a bun, Hermione grabbed her books and hurried down to breakfast. Harry was probably almost done with the morning's Quidditch practice. The team was practicing every morning to prepare for the first match of the year against Slytherin at the end of the week.  
  
As she descended the stairs near the great hall, Hermione saw Ernie standing at the bottom.  
  
 _Please don't notice me, please don't notice me,_ she thought. She had managed to avoid Ernie since the Halloween Feast, and hoped he had reconsidered his romantic professions toward her. She slowed her pace as he meandered toward the doors of the great hall.  
  
However, Hermione was not so lucky, and Ernie noticed her out of the corner of his eye. His face flushed immediately, and he took a step in her direction.  
  
“Hello, Hermione,” he said anxiously. “Going to breakfast?”  
  
“Er – yes,” said Hermione, avoiding eye contact after a quick glance in his direction.  
  
“Mind if I join you?” Ernie was walking just a bit too close to Hermione for comfort.  
  
“Sure,” said Hermione flatly. “But I need to save a spot for Harry, too.”  
  
“Oh... yeah, of course,” said Ernie, with obvious disappointment.  
  
Ernie forced awkward small talk on Hermione until Harry arrived, blushing magnificently the entire time. Ernie then walked with them out of the hall, until Harry departed for his section of seventh year study hall (or as he liked to call it “naps for nitwits” or “catch-up for Quidditch players”). Ernie then continued with Hermione to the Arithmancy classroom, talking excitedly about his Arithmancy project the entire time.  
  
Hermione was relieved to delve into her own project in solitude for the majority of the class period. Professor Vector called them together for a short lecture before class ended, and Hermione kept her attention firmly on her note-taking even though she could feel Ernie's eyes on her.  
  
As soon as class was dismissed, Hermione threw her books into her bag and was out of the door before anyone else. Just to be sure she would be able to walk alone in peace, she took the long way to the DADA classroom and stopped by the loo on the way. Thankfully, she took the time to glance in the mirror and notice that a large amount of hair had escaped her bun and was sticking out in all directions.  
  
Slipping into the advanced DADA classroom just shy of being tardy, Hermione chose a seat at the opposite end of the room from Ernie. There were eight students in the class, half of which were Ravenclaws. Hermione was the only Gryffindor, and Tracey Davis, a studious young woman of few words and a sharp wit, was the only Slytherin. Hermione sat next to her and offered a small smile. Tracey blinked, made a sound in the back of her throat, and swept her mass of long braids over her shoulder before picking up her quill. She glanced back at Hermione significantly and flicked her eyes at the chalkboard.  
  
Hermione looked up to see a block of writing scrawled across the board in a surprisingly familiar hand.  
  
 _7th Year Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts – please have a quill and parchment ready for an assessment of your prior knowledge of N.E.W.T. level Dark Arts, Dark creatures, and Defense._  
  
“Now that we are all here...” came his voice from the shadowed corner of the room. “I will give you fifty short-answer questions to determine where we must begin the curriculum. Please keep your answers _brief_ and to the point. This should take no more than thirty minutes, after which we will review and practice sixth year defensive spells. Should you finish early, please begin reading chapter five in your text, noting any new information. Chapters five and six should be completed by our next class, on Wednesday.”  
  
Hermione felt icy dread freeze her body, hand poised in the air as she reached for her quill. Snape was teaching this class. _Why_ was Snape teaching this class? Professor McGonagall had not mentioned this particular detail when they had discussed her schedule. Not that it would have changed anything, but at least Hermione would have been prepared for the sight of him in the classroom, mere feet away now, surveying the handful of students in front of him.  
  
His eyes landed on her at last, and Hermione quickly tried to clear her mind.  
  
 _Sunshine, warmth, waves on the beach._ She guided her thoughts to a bland, yet pleasantly emotionless place.  
  
Professor Snape was walking toward her. He stopped in front of her desk, towering over her from where she sat.  
  
“Miss Granger.”  
  
“Yes, Professor?”  
  
“If you would...”  
  
Hermione realized that he was trying to hand her a stack of papers – the test questions.  
  
“Oh!”  
  
She took them, placed one on her desk, and passed the stack to Tracey without looking back up. He stood by her desk for a moment before pacing back to his own in the corner of the room directly in front of Hermione.  
  
The questions were difficult, but Hermione felt certain she knew at least half of them perfectly, and perhaps another quarter were answered correctly, if not vaguely.  
  
Finished, Hermione glanced around at her peers, who were writing furiously. They had about eight minutes left, according to Snape's schedule. Hermione took her parchment to deposit it on Snape's desk.  
  
He was leaning back in his chair, reading. Without looking up, he spoke to her.  
  
“Finished already, Miss Granger? It would seem you have learned to write more succinctly at last.”  
  
He finally looked at her, and her feet stubbornly glued themselves to the spot where she stood. His piercing gaze made it hard to breathe.  
  
“I suppose I have,” she said stiffly, placing the paper in front of him. Willing her disobedient body to move, she turned and went back to her seat.  
  
Hermione was able to calm her mind while pretending to read her textbook (she had finished chapter five already by reading ahead on her own). She scribbled out a few lines of notes, mostly questions she had about the counter-curses mentioned. By the time the class moved on to defensive spell review, she was in control of her emotions and was able to demonstrate even the Cackleburn Defense properly, despite only having tried it once before as a sixth year. Lisa Turpin had just botched her attempt, and gave Hermione a sour look when Snape said, “Well done, Miss Granger. Let's see if anyone else can match it.”  
  
Hermione had greatly enjoyed the look on Harry's face when she informed him at lunch that Snape was in the classroom once again.  
  
“Merlin, Hermione, you don't suppose he's gotten rid of Shacklebolt? I've got DADA tomorrow...”  
  
“No, it's just us advanced seventh years that have Professor Snape. I suppose Shacklebolt was too busy to teach another class.”  
  
Harry took an enormous bite out of a buttered roll.  
  
“Don't scare me like that, Hermione, I thought I was going to have to give up being an Auror.”  
  
“Harry, that's ridiculous. Professor Snape is a great DADA teacher. I'm sure that he would be able to teach even your smart-arse self now that he's no longer pretending to be a spy for the wizard who wanted you dead.”  
  
“HA!” Harry said loudly, and polished off the roll.  
  
Hermione dropped the subject, as she was trying to keep her thoughts away from Professor Snape and how she was simultaneously thrilled and terrified to spend more time in his presence.  
  
Herbology passed peacefully with Luna, Neville, and Harry as her group partners. They spent the majority of the class detangling the fragile, hair-like tendrils of the Snarraflotz plants with wide-tooth combs. The finicky plants would wither under any sort of spell work, so it must be done by hand while wearing dragon skin gloves.  
  
Neville regaled them with the many uses of Snarraflotz nectar (mainly in protective or healing protective potions against curses), and the various methods of extraction used to get the precious liquid out of slow-growing fleshy bulbs at the end of each tendril.  
  
That evening, Hermione joined the other advanced students in the Transfiguration room, where Professor McGonagall was waiting with loads of extra reading. It was nice to be in a class with students who did not whine and moan when assigned reading, Hermione marveled. She returned to her room that night ready to read for an entire evening, but was interrupted by the task of making her rounds as head girl... with Ernie. Thankfully, they did not walk the entire time together, only checking in at certain points around the castle.  
  
Hermione first checked the common room, where a handful of students were still studying, and a small group of third year girls were whispering and giggling. They noticed her watching them, and grew silent.  
  
Walking to the library to meet Ernie, Hermione steeled herself for more awkward conversation as Ernie continued hinting at what Hermione was trying to avoid acknowledging.  
  
Ernie was waiting for her in the hall.  
  
“Hey Hermione,” he greeted her. “Shall we check the nooks in the library first?”  
  
“Sure,” she said. “I'll check the right side, if you'll get the left?”  
  
Ernie nodded, and they went inside, casually perusing the dark corners of the library. As always, Hermione prayed she would not find Ginny snogging Dean.  
  
“All clear.”  
  
Hermione involuntarily jumped when she heard Ernie's voice beside her.  
  
“Ah, here too,” she said, turning to find the he was standing quite close to her. Ernie was slightly shorter than Harry, and she could not help making uncomfortable eye contact with him for a moment.  
  
“Let's go,” she said, pushing past him. “I've got a lot of reading to finish.”  
  
They left the library and parted ways, making the first round. Meeting back at the staircase, Hermione nodded at Ernie and started the second round. This time when they met, Ernie stopped her.  
  
“I haven't seen a soul, have you?”  
  
“Not one,” said Hermione. “See you in a few minutes.”  
  
They made the third round and met at the library again. Ernie had gotten there first, and was peering inside.  
  
“I think I heard someone,” he whispered, and quietly they went to investigate.  
  
Another walk through the library proved pointless. Hermione sighed as she checked the last aisle.  
  
“Nothing,” she said, as Ernie came to find her.  
  
“Ah, well... sorry,” he said, once again standing just a bit too close.  
  
“It's all right,” said Hermione, turning to go. She stopped short when Ernie grabbed her hand.  
  
“Hermione, wait.”  
  
“Ernie...”  
  
Hermione dreaded the conversation that was about to happen. Ernie kissed her hand.  
  
“Er – I – what are you doing?”  
  
He stepped toward her.  
  
“May I?”  
  
“May you... what?”  
  
Suddenly his face was inches from hers.  
  
“This,” he said, making an obvious attempt to kiss her. Hermione quickly moved so that he only got a chaste peck on her check.  
  
“Oh, Ernie... I just can't. We can talk later, but I really have to go. Goodnight.”  
  
She fled to her room in horror. Once out of sight of the library, she slowed down. The talk with Ernie was going to happen the next day. Hermione had been looking forward to another day of new advanced classes, but now she could think only of the right time, place, and wording to let Ernie down.  
  
“Hermione!”  
  
A familiar loud whisper startled her.  
  
“Harry!” she whispered back, with annoyance. He was obviously lurking the halls under the cloak again.  
  
A hand touched her arm.  
  
“Right here,” he said.  
  
Hermione cast a silencing spell around them.  
  
“Harry, what are you doing out here?” she asked in exasperation.  
  
“Just making sure Malfoy's not lurking about,” he said. “He's up to something, Hermione...”  
  
“For the last time, Harry, forget about Malfoy! He's probably just depressed, and – wait a minute! Why didn't you just use the map to see what he's up to? Which is most likely _nothing,_ mind you.”  
  
Harry sighed heavily.  
  
“I've lost the map.”  
  
“WHAT?”  
  
“Well, not lost, exactly. It's at Grimmauld Place somewhere. I must have forgotten to pack it when I came to school. I noticed as soon as I got here because Malfoy was acting so strange at the first feast that I wanted to see if he was hanging out in the common room with his old friends or... up to something else.”  
  
“Honestly, Harry, your obsession with Malfoy is starting to scare me. It's probably for the best that you don't have the map. Please, relax for once in your life – you've earned it. Voldemort is gone. Malfoy is vile, but he is back this year for the same reason you are – to complete his education. Just let him be.”  
  
They walked in silence for a few minutes, and if it had not been for the sound of his breathing right beside her, Hermione would not have known Harry was still there.  
  
“You know, Hermione, I was right about Malfoy the last time I thought he was up to something. You didn't believe me then, either...”  
  
Hermione shook her head.  
  
“Harry... whatever is going on with Malfoy, and yes, I agree there is _something_ going on, I don't think it's a plot for revenge, or even general mischief. I think it's probably none of our business since we're not his friends, and I for one don't plan on becoming one any time soon.”  
  
They had reached the Gryffindor common room, which was empty. Harry threw off the cloak and folded it carefully.  
  
“Okay, Hermione, but I'm going to find the map over the holidays. Just for some peace of mind.”  
  
“Goodnight, Harry,” she said wearily.  
  
“Oh, wait!”  
  
He stopped before entering the dormitory.  
  
“Be careful where you pick to snog Ernie on your rounds. I don't need to walk up on you two like that again!”  
  
“Harry Potter, you know very well I was not – ”  
  
Harry was laughing. “I know, Hermione! Merlin... look, do you want me to, uh, have a little chat with him about his unwanted advances?”  
  
“No! Harry! I'll take care of it.”  
  
“Goodnight, Hermione.”  
  
The next morning flew by without a sighting of Ernie until he snuck into the back of the classroom just as Ancient Runes began – admittedly the most dull of the advanced classes, but all the more reason to get the N.E.W.T. out of the way before spring.  
  
At the end of class, Ernie was out of the room before Hermione had closed her book.  
  
 _I suppose he's gotten the message,_ Hermione thought. She would still have to talk to him, but for now she was happy to be getting along to advanced Potions.  
  
She hurried to the dungeons, noticing that none of her classmates seemed to be joining her. Turning a corner, she saw Tracey Davis disappear into the Potions classroom ahead of her.  
  
Minutes later, Hermione joined Tracey and Su Li – a Ravenclaw so shy that Hermione had only heard her speak outside of class once – in the dimly lit room.  
  
“Good afternoon,” resonated a voice from the doorway behind them.  
  
 _That is definitely not Professor Slughorn,_ thought Hermione, as she attempted to sit down while turning to confirm that Professor Snape was indeed walking through the classroom.  
  
She could swear she saw a brief smirk pull at the corner of his mouth as he passed by.  
  
“I see that there are few of our best and brightest who feel up to the task of taking accelerated Potions. I trust that the three of you will do your best to impress me in the short amount of time we have to prepare for the N.E.W.T.s. If you can keep up, I _will_ have you ready to pass with high marks.”  
  
Snape studied the young women sitting one to a table.  
  
“As we have ample working space, you shall work independently unless a potion calls for more than two hands.”  
  
He moved to the board and waved his wand at it. The chalk began writing out a list of symbols and their meanings. Severus turned and crossed his arms.  
  
“You will start by copying down this list of common Potions Master's annotations. You will use these marks to edit your text.”  
  
Hermione felt his eyes on her, though she was watching the chalk write on the board behind him. She glanced self-consciously at Su Li, whose eyes had widened significantly at the mention of writing in a text book.  
  
 _Well, at least I'm not the only one,_ thought Hermione, whose general opinion was that books were sacred and not to be scribbled in.  
  
“You will mark your text according to my suggestions or as you see fit while working in your own manner. Not every potion maker can or should use the exact same techniques. Adjustments may be made for your height, strength, age, hand preference, and even the type of core contained in your wand, for example. To be clear; I will be looking for notes in your text.”  
  
Hermione was staring now, amazed that it seemed he would be sharing some of his personal discoveries and short-cuts with them.  
  
Snape had them set up their work stations with extra ingredients added to their base set, as well as an extra set of small scales and specialty tools for cutting, peeling, measuring and sprinkling.  
  
They took copious notes that afternoon in preparation for the next class, in which they would brew the three easiest potions on the N.E.W.T.s. Hermione got through the class the same way she did DADA – by occluding her mind to calm her thoughts and keep them from Professor Snape.  
  
The rest of the week passed quickly, and soon Hermione found herself sitting in the Quidditch stands with Luna and Neville, watching Gryffindor struggle against the Slytherin team. Ron was performing horribly, but the rest of the team was doing their best to make up for it... except for Harry, who seemed to be preoccupied with swooping down to talk to Ron in between laps around the pitch.  
  
Moments later, after Gryffindor finally scored and Slytherin retaliated by scoring twice more, Hermione saw Draco careening off to one side of the field. Harry was too busy yelling something at Ron to notice until it was too late – he was yards behind Draco when he caught the Snitch and ended the game, giving Slytherin the victory.  
  
Harry and Ron both landed heavily on the grass and started gesturing at one another wildly, both yelling. Ginny flew one circle around them, and then landed to one side. Hermione quickly cast a spell to improve her hearing and directed her right ear toward her friends, who were arguing without concern for the celebrating Slytherins or their confused, defeated team members.  
  
“WOULD YOU TWO SHUT UP FOR ONE MOMENT!” yelled Ginny, her voice muffled and garbled under the amplification charm. “WHAT in Merlin's name is GOING ON?!”  
  
“Harry doesn't... to know... with Hermione!” With his voice lowered, it was hard to hear Ron, even with the spell. “Do you know …. told? ERNIE MACMILLAN! But WE can't know... just couldn't HANDLE that bit of information...”  
  
“RON, LISTEN! I did NOT tell Ernie anything ... just upset Hermione... go out with him!”  
  
“Do you think... haven't already figured it out?” asked Ron. “... saw you dancing... didn't look like ... friends!”  
  
Harry threw up his hands in the air and kicked at a dirt clod, muttering something. Ginny spoke.  
  
“Ron... jumping to conclusions... Hermione and I... talk... if they say... then they AREN'T! BESIDES, even if they are... your business... not been your girlfriend for a long time. Things change. Get over it!”  
  
Ron gestured at Harry.  
  
“... doesn't mean we can't talk about stuff... she's NOT... only friend. Yeah, I'm with Padma... things change... GET OVER IT!”  
  
“Uh, Hermione? Are you...okay?”  
  
Luna and Neville were still sitting beside her, both watching her intently. Most of the other students had already filed out of the stands.  
  
“Sorry,” she said to Neville, realizing that it must have appeared that she suddenly turned her head to the side and went into a trance. “I'm fine... really.”  
  
So, it appeared that Harry had said _something_ to Ernie after all, and that something had turned into a rumor that she and Harry were an item, and that rumor had gotten back to Ron. Ron, who Hermione was sure was using the opportunity to vent his frustration over losing his best friend to his ex-girlfriend. It was not likely that he was actually feeling possessive over Hermione after how he had treated her since the war ended. If those two did not make up soon, Hermione might just resort to locking them in an empty classroom until they either worked it out or came to blows and beat the stupid out of each other.  
  
Hermione waited for Harry to return to the common room, and pulled him aside.  
  
“Harry, we need to talk.”  
  
“Er – okay, about what?” he asked.  
  
“Not here,” said Hermione. “Let's go for a walk.”  
  
She took him out to the courtyard and cast warming and silencing spells around them.  
  
“Harry, what did you say to Ernie after the other night in the library? He's been avoiding me.”  
  
“Nothing! I just sort of mentioned that I knew he fancies you, and that you were interested in somebody else.”  
  
Hermione felt a shiver of fear run through her... but there was no way that Harry could know about her ridiculous crush, she reasoned with herself.  
  
“I didn't mean for him to think it was me, I just... wanted to get him to leave you alone.”  
  
“Harry, I told you I would talk to him! Why did you do that? Now everyone really thinks we're together...”  
  
“What does it matter?” asked Harry glumly. “Neither of us has someone we care about who would be jealous.”  
  
Harry was obviously wishing that Ginny had been more upset about the idea of her ex-boyfriend moving on to one of her friends. Hermione was just depressed that the only romantic interest she had at the moment was an embarrassing crush on a professor.


	12. A Misunderstanding

Severus had waited long enough to ask her. He had been watching Potter for weeks, and much to his annoyance, the only thing he was sure of was that the boy was pursuing Hermione. It had even cost him the Quidditch match with Slytherin, when he and Weasley argued over the matter during the game.  
  
It was just like Weasley to feel he had some kind of claim over Hermione after dating her and deserting her for another woman while she was paralyzed and bedridden by a curse for a few months. However, it was not like Potter to put a spat with Weasley above winning a game of Quidditch – the boy had played well and won games under more significant emotional distress.  
  
After their dance and disappearance at the feast, Hermione and Potter had been inseparable, even though they were no longer in the same classes for most of the week. Hermione seemed to be somewhat distracted, but was still at the top of her classes despite arriving seconds before the start of class and rushing out the door at the end.  
  
Potter had been something of a recluse this year, showing a remarkable lack of interest in anything but Quidditch and Hermione Granger. Severus had yet to catch him skulking about the castle at night, or to hear him parading loudly through the halls between classes with the rest of his teammates.  
  
It was time to talk to Hermione – it would be foolish to wait any longer. Severus checked the time. Hermione was most likely studying in her room for the night, as she did not have rounds this evening.  
  
“Truno,” he called to the hulking, gritty, somewhat cheeky house-elf that had quickly become his favorite since he returned to Hogwarts as headmaster. Truno might not obey every command without question, but he was also one of the more intelligent house-elves Severus knew. He could be trusted, and could take criticism without resorting to the ridiculous levels of self-flagellation most elves used to dramatic effect when proving their loyalty.  
  
“Headmaster called?” came Truno's gravelly voice, following a loud crack.  
  
“I would like you to bring Miss Granger to my office as soon as possible, but you must do so discreetly. Make sure she is alone, then Apparate her back here. She is not to be seen coming or going, _especially_ by Harry Potter.”  
  
“Yes, Headmaster,” said Truno with an small bow, and disappeared. It was some time before he returned.  
  
“Here be Miss Granger,” he said unceremoniously, still holding her arm. “She were talkin' with Harry Potter for some time before returnin' to her room.”  
  
He dropped his hold on her and Disapparated. Hermione lost her balance for a moment as the weight of the house-elf on her arm suddenly lifted.  
  
“Miss Granger, I'm sure you are wondering why I've asked Truno to bring you here at this hour.”  
  
He could sense her confusion. Reaching out with his mind just a bit, he felt her thoughts racing beneath the surface, a distant murmur.  
  
“Yes. I am...” she said, eyes wide.  
  
“Please,” he said. “Sit down.”  
  
She obeyed, sinking slowly into the offered chair, her eyes fixed on him with what seemed to be intense curiosity. Her mind, however, told him that she was anxious... and that she was regulating her thoughts with some Occlumency, something he had noticed in class as well. He would every now and then catch a hint of embarrassment clouding her emotions, only for her to quell it immediately and throw up a cool wall of emotionless dark waves.  
  
“I must speak to you about Harry Potter...” Severus said, wondering if it was thoughts about that very young man that she endeavored to keep to herself while in the classroom.  
  
“Er – what about Harry?” she asked, frowning slightly.  
  
“Miss Granger, I must confess something to you that is to be held in strictest confidence,” he started, and she straightened in her seat.  
  
“You and I must be the only living souls that know the information I'm about to share with you,” he said cautiously.  
  
Her frown deepened, and she began to look quite worried. Her guard failed a bit, and some of that emotion washed over Severus' own mind, unsettling his own thoughts.  
  
“It concerns the matter of your search for Voldemort's Horcruxes last year.”  
  
A small gasp escaped her, and she blinked in surprise.  
  
“I never... we didn't know that anyone else... knew about them. You knew we were hunting Horcruxes the whole time?”  
  
“I suspected long before it was confirmed, as was Dumbledore's plan,” acknowledged Severus. “You three and myself are the only ones who know the true secret of Voldemort's seeming immortality. As he has proven untrustworthy since the end of the war, I must ask that you do not tell Ron Weasley anything spoken of here tonight.”  
  
“Oh – of course not.”  
  
A long silence sat between them as Severus sensed her carefully controlling and arranging her thoughts in preparation for what he might say.  
  
“Harry Potter was, and possibly still is, a Horcrux of Voldemort. The fragment of soul became lodged in his forehead years ago when Voldemort attempted to kill him, and may yet still survive.”  
  
If Hermione was astonished by the news, she hid it well in both her countenance and her thoughts. After a moment, she spoke.  
  
“I – I know. I mean, I knew he was a Horcrux, but he's told me that the part of Voldemort inside him is gone now.”  
  
She looked at Severus expectantly, waiting for his reaction. He stood and began pacing.  
  
“How did he explain the destruction of the Horcrux?”  
  
“Well... he said that when Voldemort hit him with the Killing Curse in the battle, he had a sort of... near-death experience. He told me that he spoke with Dumbledore... and Dumbledore told him that he was a Horcrux. Harry never suspected it, though I had wondered a few times... I didn't want to believe it could be possible.”  
  
“Dumbledore was there, in Potter's head?”  
  
“Well, Harry couldn't really explain how Dumbledore was there... but I suppose we don't know much about the afterlife or what might be possible, do we?” she asked hopefully. “Anyway, apparently Dumbledore explained that Harry was supposed to have realized he was a Horcrux, and sacrificed himself to destroy the soul fragment... so that Voldemort might be defeated.”  
  
Severus stopped, stood still for a moment, and resumed pacing again.  
  
“And how does he account for his survival of the Killing Curse during the battle?”  
  
“I believe Dumbledore told him it had to do with his blood, his mother's blood protection...”  
  
She paused and frowned as she noticed Severus flinch at the mention of Lily's blood.  
  
“It had to do with the fact that Voldemort returned to bodily form by taking Harry's blood... Dumbledore told Harry 'tethered him to life' somehow.”  
  
She looked up at Severus with accusatory eyes.  
  
“So... so you knew... and you didn't think Harry would survive? For how long? Did Dumbledore swear you to secrecy?”  
  
Severus stopped pacing, his back to her.  
  
“Like you, I suspected for years that there was more to Potter's scar than a Dark Mark. I knew not that it was possible for the already unlikely creation of an accidental Horcrux to lodge itself into a nearby living being of its own accord. I knew nothing for certain until Dumbledore was ready to tell me... shortly before his death.”  
  
He turned to look at her.  
  
“May I?” he asked, reaching out with his mind.  
  
 _It will be easier to show you._  
  
 _Yes,_ she said, eyes wide again.  
  
Severus felt a wave of elation as she answered him as clearly and easily as they had communicated while under the curse. The loss of the curse's connection had not diminished her ability to use Legilimency. She was truly a talented young witch.  
  
Severus closed his eyes, and carefully brought forth the scene he had replayed in his mind over and over in the past two years.  
  
He showed her only as much as she needed to know of moments in which Dumbledore had finally confirmed what Severus had begun to suspect about Potter, and had charged Severus with waiting until the last possible moment to enlighten the boy about his fate. He quickly ended the memory before Hermione learned any more about Severus' past and his reasons for protecting Harry in the first place.  
  
“I do not believe it was his original plan to tell me when he did,” said Severus. “But I pressed him to keep me in the dark no longer to his full plan, considering what he had asked me to do.”  
  
At that, Hermione looked at him with such a pained expression that he had to steel himself to continue.  
  
“He may have never told me, and would have rather found another way to inform Potter... but, he was running out of time.”  
  
Hermione's mind was reeling, unsettled.  
  
“I understand why he had to wait to tell Harry,” said Hermione. “I mean, he couldn't very well risk Voldemort finding out that Harry was his final Horcrux... but to have known for so long what Harry would have to do, and ask you to protect Harry for years without telling you why... it's so... so...”  
  
“Calculating... deceptive... manipulative...” Severus supplied. “Machiavellian?”  
  
“Yes,” she said, and grew quiet for a moment. “But, I suppose it had to be done. If not for Dumbledore, how would we have defeated Voldemort? We might all be dead now if he had not been planning his defeat all those years...”  
  
“Indeed,” said Severus softly.  
  
“Both you and Harry have endured so much,” she said, her sadness escaping her mind and caressing his thoughts.  
  
“As have many others,” said Severus. “Yourself included. If not for your advanced knowledge, intelligence, magical ability, and loyalty, I do not believe myself nor even Dumbledore would have been able to keep Potter alive long enough to defeat the Dark Lord. You were essential to the plan as well, Hermione. Who else could have helped Potter find those Horcruxes, while also seeming to be little threat to Voldemort? Both Potter and I owe you much, for ensuring our efforts and sacrifices were not in vain.”  
  
She simply stared at him as if he had grown a second head, her thoughts becoming cloudy, misty, and vaguely obscured. Severus cleared his throat.  
  
“There is still the matter of whether Potter is indeed correct about the destruction of the last Horcrux. Aside from the vision he had, which we must consider could have been only the product of his own mind upon being hit and knocked out by a deadly curse... we can have no reason to believe that the soul fragment could be destroyed separately from the vessel in which it was contained.”  
  
Hermione looked as if she were about to burst into tears, so Severus quickly made his point.  
  
“Which is not to say that it isn't possible. The complex, elusive code of Blood Magic that tied them together does seem to suggest that there was a way for Potter to survive, allowing Voldemort to kill only the Horcrux. Have you any reason to believe that Potter is not completely himself?”  
  
“No... I don't think so,” said Hermione. “But then, I wouldn't really know what he is like without a Horcrux in his head, would I? He's always been one... but I believe him when he says it's gone.”  
  
Severus cleared his throat uncomfortably once more.  
  
“It is perhaps convenient that you and Potter have become so, ah... close... recently. If you would, please let me know immediately if you see any signs of Dark influence over him. It goes without saying, nobody knows what it would mean for the last bit of a powerful Dark soul left on earth to reside within another wizard. We can't know if the possible fragment is strong enough on its own to influence his thoughts, perhaps even to convince him that it does not exist. Please come to me with anything... worrisome.”  
  
“I will, Professor... but I, erm... I will keep an eye on him, but we are not... as close as I think you're suggesting. We're... just good friends... is all.”  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow at her claim, and obvious discomfort.  
  
“Then I suggest caution... for the boy is either smitten with you or attempting to keep you isolated from your friends for other reasons.”  
  
“What? No, he's done nothing of the sort! Our friends have done a fine job of isolating us without Harry's help... he is quite upset by it.”  
  
“Then, you have quarreled with Miss Weasley as well? For she seemed a loyal friend to you despite her break with Potter.”  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
“I suppose I _have_ been spending a lot of time with just Harry,” she said. “But he needs me more than Ginny.”  
  
“And what of your own needs?” he asked sharply, startling her.  
  
She took a calming breath, glaring at him now.  
  
“I'm perfectly fine,” she said. “I have always preferred books to most people, anyway. Harry is my _friend,_ and it is not his fault I haven't been talking to Ginny Weasley. Has it become a requirement for the head girl to spend all of her free time socializing? Because otherwise, I'm not sure why it matters how many friends I've got!”  
  
Severus felt his temper flare at her remarks, for he was only concerned that a potential Volde-Potter hybrid was gaining a hold over one of the most powerful witches of the younger generation.  
  
“Forgive me,” he said coldly. “I meant no criticism of your social preferences. I ask only that you take care to view Potter's actions toward you through a lens of caution, until we are able to confirm that the part of Voldemort which resided in him is truly gone.”  
  
Her anger subsided quickly, and he took a step toward her, wishing he did not have to ask her to distrust her only close friend.  
  
“You have more powerful abilities than you understand, Hermione. If there is even the slightest hint of Voldemort left in Harry Potter, it will be drawn to you in an effort to claim and use that strength for its own ends. Exercise vigilance in examining his actions, despite your feelings for him... even if they are just that of a loyal friend.”  
  
He looked down at her, still sitting in chair. She had a determined look on her face. Standing, she straightened out her robe.  
  
“I will be careful,” she said. “But I still believe Harry. He might be quarreling with Ron and Ginny at the moment, but he's in a better place, mentally, this year. He _knows_ that he is free from Voldemort, and it's made all the difference. He's actually begun to care about his school work, for one thing.”  
  
She looked up at Severus.  
  
“I promise to tell you if he says or does anything suspicious,” she said. “Or if he starts asking me to brew strange Dark potions in the middle of a graveyard under a full moon... especially if they involve Blood Magic.”  
  
She smiled slightly. Severus regarded her seriously for a moment, hoping that she indeed knew Potter well enough to be correct in believing him.  
  
“Very well. I believe it is quite late... I will have Truno take you back to your room.”  
  
Severus had barely finished speaking the sentence when Truno Apparated back into the office.  
  
“Miss Granger is ready to leave now, sir?” he asked, taking her arm, obviously ready to get to bed himself.  
  
“One moment, Truno. Miss Granger... if you ever need relay anything to me immediately, at any time, you may call for Truno.”  
  
“Yes, call for Truno _anytime_!” said the elf with what might have been annoyance, but then he smiled a somewhat gruesome grin at Hermione and bowed. “Miss is good and kind,” said Truno. “She will call Truno if she needs something, since Winky is so busy with lilfie Bobun.”  
  
“Oh, Truno! Is that, uh – his – name? I would love to meet him!”  
  
Truno nodded, sticking his chest out in pride. “Bobun be walkin' soon, then Miss might meet him!”  
  
“Oh, how wonderful! I've never seen a baby house-elf!”  
  
“Lilfie,” Truno corrected her, and they Disapparated with the usual loud crack.  
  
Severus slept uneasily that night, not convinced that Hermione was sufficiently worried about the possibility of Potter still being a Horcrux. At least both she and Potter would be under his watch at the school for the rest of the year.  
  
The week passed pleasantly enough. Severus greatly enjoyed teaching his advanced students, particularly watching Hermione make some of the greatest strides of them all. She was doing quite well in Potions for someone who wanted to get the right answer the first time every time – she was learning to see creating a good potion as an individual process rather than a procedure to follow to the letter. The three bright young women in that class were quite competitive, and it was often entertaining to watch them work. They would go through cycles of helping one another work through the ingredient lists and methods, then falling silent as they worked furiously to brew the most effective potion.  
  
If he was not mistaken, Tracey Davis and Hermione were slowly becoming friends. Perhaps Hermione would not miss Ginny Weasley's flighty friendship for long.  
  
Severus had noticed also that Horatia Bartram had toned down her flirtatious interactions with him, so much so that it was no longer an exercise in patience to have a conversation with the woman. One evening at the end of the week, she requested a meeting with Severus for advice on her werewolf unit with the third years, and Severus found that he was not dreading the encounter.  
  
As Bartram left his office with the meeting scheduled for after dinner, Severus heard two of the older portraits whistling.  
  
“I'll be sure to be back here at seven, then,” said Oswaldo, a large, balding, bawdy old man wearing a robe heavily embroidered with silver thread. “I bet she's got more on her mind than talking, Headmaster, eh?”  
  
“Bugger off, you filthy old sod!” said Severus loudly. Fawkes woke and ruffled his feathers in protest.  
  
“I wouldn't miss it!” exclaimed Ferdinand the Third. “It's been quite some time since this office was christened by a new headmaster... or headmistress. Why, I think Galatia was the last one to have a proper romp in here... where has she gotten off to now? Had a different bloke in here every month, as I recall...”  
  
“Bloody sodding hell!” Severus hissed, spinning around and brandishing his wand at the wall of portraits. “I can find a nice broom closet to hang you lot in, one that won't be opened for centuries after I've charmed it shut!”  
  
The portraits were silenced for a moment.  
  
“Dear boy, do calm yourself! I don't know that I've ever met anyone more in need of having a hump! She's been quite clear about _her_ interest. Why don't you take her up on it?”  
  
Severus stomped out of the room without another word, leaving the portraits to take bets over how long he would hold out before Horatia had her way with him.  
  
In lieu of removing the nosy portraits from the office, Severus asked Bartram to meet him in the sitting room of the headmaster's quarters. It was stiff, formal, and wholly unused, but it was free from prying eyes and idiotic unsolicited comments.  
  
She arrived precisely at seven, carrying a bag full of books and scrolls of parchment. He invited her to sit in the large, slightly more comfortable green cushioned chair across the coffee table. She began unloading her bag, which apparently contained a bottle of red wine as well as her lesson plans and books.  
  
At his look, she sighed heavily.  
  
“I don't know about you, but after the kind of week I've had, it's a necessary part of my Friday evening. I thought I'd offer to share, but if you'd rather I partake later...”  
  
Severus waved his wand, and two glasses appeared on the table. She poured the wine wordlessly and unrolled one of the scrolls.  
  
“So, here is what I have planned. I know, however, that you happen to be one of the few expert brewers of the Wolfsbane Potion, and there is so little in the text about the potion, and how modern werewolves actually live with the condition... I thought you could add something to my notes. You've known and worked with a few werewolves, I believe?”  
  
She took a sip of wine, leaving a dark red lipstick print on the glass. Severus reached for the scroll covered in lines of delicate, orderly handwriting. He, too, sipped wine as he read. It was... acceptable: dry, a bit smoky, not too heavy, with a slight lingering finish.  
  
As he read, she worked her way quickly through her glass, and the slightest hint of pink rose in her pale cheeks.  
  
“You have covered the topic sufficiently,” he said at last. “Any more information would go over the heads of most third year students. What were you hoping I might add?”  
  
She was pouring herself a second glass.  
  
“Ah, well... perhaps you could tell me a little about the mental state changes a werewolf deals with. I've heard it can result in quite dramatic mood swings, outbursts... do they have to spend the days before or after the change away from family and friends?”  
  
Severus sipped from his still mostly-full glass.  
  
“Those precautions are generally not necessary,” he said. “Though the werewolf will have trouble regulating their moods up to a week before a full moon, most are able to function within their normal environments, sometimes with the help of a mild Calming Draught the day of the change. Immediately after a full moon, the witch or wizard affected will feel the most like themselves than at any other time in the cycle.”  
  
He took another sip under the gaze of her heavy-lidded eyes.  
  
“I see,” she said quietly. She slowly leaned forward and picked up her quill, adding a few lines to her notes. Settling back into her chair, she studied him again. “How are your classes going with the advanced students?”  
  
Severus was nearing the end of his glass now.  
  
“Better than expected,” he said, reaching for the near-empty bottle. He poured himself a modest glass and left enough for another of its size. “The students are excelling.”  
  
“They are lucky to have you,” she said. “I would have jumped at the opportunity, though perhaps I was not near enough the top of the class to be chosen for such an honor.”  
  
Severus said nothing.  
  
“Do you still not remember me as a student, Professor? I know the transformation of my appearance is probably shocking, but do you not recall a shy, tall stick-figure of a girl with wild, long hair who hung on your every word in Potions class?”  
  
“I do remember a Horatia Langley,” he said. “That girl hardly resembles the woman I see before me. You would have me believe it was you?”  
  
“Professor,” She took a large swig from her glass, downing the rest of it, and upending the rest of the wine into it before she spoke.  
  
“The reason you don't recognize me, is that I've had quite a bit of work done. Not of my own accord, though... it was done to repair disfigurement from a curse. My cosmetic Healer was quite good, I will admit. It was so extensive, I had to get a special permit from the Ministry to document the change in my appearance.”  
  
Intrigued, Severus played into her hand.  
  
“What is your story, then, Bartram?” he asked.  
  
She told him, in ever-so-slightly-slurred narrative, her unpleasant life story: of growing up in a large, poor, pureblood family, the eldest of five, her mother a compulsive liar and petty thief, her father abusive and largely absent. She became a surrogate mother and protector when her mother died in her sixth year at Hogwarts. Her younger siblings were soon sent to live with a wealthy but ultimately cruel aunt in the states – her mother's sister-in-law, who was a widow. She agreed to take the children as their only living relative, but treated them as servants when they were home on break from the U.S. magical school they were forced to attend instead of Hogwarts.  
  
“I found out that my father was a Death Eater in my seventh year,” she said. “He sold our house and disappeared. I moved to Australia with my boyfriend, as I had nowhere else to go and no ambitions other than to escape my past. I worked as a waitress for three years, at which point I decided to follow the dream that would have most angered my family and become an Auror.”  
  
Severus sat, holding an empty wine glass, waiting for her to continue.  
  
“I had not been working for the Ministry more than a few months when it happened. I was working on a job to bring in a few former low-level Death Eaters and it turned out that one of them was my own father. He was captured and is still in Azkaban for the murders of five people. It was my father that set a flesh-burning curse on my face, and sent me to St. Mungo's for nearly a year.”  
  
She shifted in her seat.  
  
“My brothers Charles and Julius are still in the states. They own a successful cake decorating business, and they've just informed me they may be offered some sort of television deal. So, though she is a vile woman, I am incredibly thankful to my aunt for taking them in... otherwise they might have turned out like my father.”  
  
Horatia got up and slunk over to join Severus on the couch.  
  
“Do you not remember comforting me when my mother died? As my head of house, you called me in to speak to me about my sudden poor marks, and when you discovered the reason... you were so understanding, as if you personally knew the pain of losing a parent at a young age...”  
  
She touched his arm, and Severus flinched.  
  
“You told me to focus on my studies, and warned me about falling in with a certain crowd... not that I was tempted to become anything like my father... but again, I have always wondered if you were speaking from experience. Was I correct to believe we shared some of the same misfortunes in life? It's not easy growing up poor in Slytherin house, with all the old pureblood families and old money it seems to attract...”  
  
Severus stood up and turned away from her, the words striking a raw nerve in him, bringing back memories that he preferred to forget.  
  
“From the moment we had that talk, I was out of my mind over you,” she laughed. “I could barely stand to sit through your classes, it was so distracting! Did you not notice?”  
  
“I had many other things on my mind at that time,” he said darkly. He sensed her standing close behind him.  
  
“I've never been able to forget you, Professor Snape,” she said longingly. “And I still find you exceedingly distracting...”  
  
Severus turned to find her practically falling into his arms. She steadied herself on his chest, smiling expectantly, her lovely mouth pulling up slyly at the corners.  
  
“Professor Bartram,” he said with some difficulty. “I must insist that you leave at once. This is wholly inappropriate behavior for a Hogwarts professor.”  
  
Still, he found himself strangely unwilling to push her away.  
  
She stopped smiling and leaned in cautiously, her eyes fluttering shut as she placed a soft kiss on his cheek, then a slightly firmer one on his lips. Severus felt his breath rush heavily out of his nose as he remembered to breathe again. He allowed himself to move his own lips in response, and Horatia made a satisfied sound in her throat.  
  
Severus closed his eyes as she deepened the kiss, prepared to think of nothing but the moment, and with that, the memory of Hermione planting one on him in the infirmary under the flash of Rita Skeeter's camera came bursting into his consciousness.  
  
Severus shoved Horatia away as if she had burned him. The mood was most certainly ruined, and it occurred to Severus that it would not be wise to go any further with a woman as needy and neurotic as Horatia Bartram seemed to be. A fling with a woman who had obsessed over him for years would most certainly be regretted immediately.  
  
“Wha- what's wrong?” she sputtered in alarm.  
  
“I asked you to go,” he said.  
  
“I – I – will... if you wish,” she said in confusion. “But it rather seemed you wanted me to stay for a moment there...”  
  
“Professor Bartram, I wish you to leave at once, and to never repeat such a performance again! We are to be colleagues and nothing more!”  
  
She started tossing items into her bag, laughing.  
  
“Colleagues? You barely acknowledge me as a member of the faculty! I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me, to keep my attention, but it turns out you're just an arse, Severus Snape!”  
  
She swept out of the door, tripping slightly on an uneven floor board. Severus followed her to the door, already feeling some remorse over his words. She was a bit barmy, to be sure, but overall a decent witch, especially considering her past. Under different circumstances – namely, the absence of her unfounded obsession with him – they might have had some fun. They might have even been friends.  
  
A small gasp, and Severus finally noticed another visitor standing in the hall. Hermione.  
  
“Hermione, what's happened?” he asked, as her presence could only mean one of two things; she had come across a problem on her rounds that night, or something significant had happened with Potter.  
  
“It can wait,” she said strangely, and hurried away.  
  
It was not until later in the evening that Severus discovered the bit of red lipstick that Horatia had left on his mouth.


	13. The Test

Hermione fled the corridor in front of Snape's rooms, her mind relentlessly replaying what she had just seen: Horatia Bartram stumbling out of the room, Snape appearing in the doorway looking upset, calling to Hermione, a bright smear of red lipstick across his lips. Over and over it played as she practically ran back to the dormitory.  
  
 _It's none of my business,_ she tried to reason with herself. _If she makes him happy then it's for the best. Merlin knows he must be lonely, and she's probably the most beautiful witch most people have seen in real life._  
  
It did not matter that Hermione had no intention of ever telling Snape how she felt, and didn't matter that she had no reason to be upset that he had been with Bartram that night. She felt sick at the thought of it. Hermione was unused to her logical mind refusing to accept reason. It would not give up her jealousy, nor accept her decision to get over her ill-fated crush.  
  
Hermione went to bed that night and barely slept. In her dreams she was older, no longer a mere student, and he was always there with her. Often, they read together, their thoughts mingling in the words and images conjured up by the text. This time, she wore red lipstick and he was obviously staring at her mouth as she read, at which point Hermione would wake, disturbed by her subconscious desire to be Horatia Bartram, and toss and turn until sleep eventually found her again.  
  
Hermione woke with a headache, unwilling to meet the day. The day before she had been looking forward to finishing her rounds and speaking with Professor Snape. She had more proof that Harry was not a Horcrux. Snape would not be happy with the way she had found that proof, but Hermione planned to tell him nonetheless.  
  
Hermione had been sitting with Harry late one night in the library while he finished his DADA assignments, skimming a textbook and thinking about the meeting she had just had with Snape. Legilimency still seemed easily within her power, but was it only because Snape allowed her to use it on him?  
  
She carefully let her mind expand outward toward Harry, waiting to sense something other than her own thoughts. There was nothing... and then, there was a melancholy wave that tickled her senses. Hermione noticed that Harry had stopped reading, his gaze no longer on the page, but across the library where a certain redhead sat.  
  
Hermione searched a bit further and found a pool of uncertainty and longing.  
  
"Harry."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Can I ask you a question?"  
  
"Uh, yeah... sure, Hermione."  
  
"Do you feel different this year?"  
  
"What do you mean... different?"  
  
Hermione closed her book. "I mean, what is it like, now that you don't have... _him_... in your head anymore?"  
  
Harry stopped watching Ginny and looked at Hermione.  
  
"Yeah, it's different," he said in a whisper. "It's like... before, I was always trying _not_ to be angry. Even after I knew that Voldemort was still connected to my scar, I had to constantly keep part of me suppressed or I would lose control. It got easier once he started blocking me out of his mind, but that feeling was still there... some kind of crazy anger, wanting to get out."  
  
"What's it like now?" she asked.  
  
Harry let a puff of air escape in a sigh.  
  
"Now? I guess it's more like... I can relax. I mean, I still get angry about... things... obviously..."  
  
Hermione noticed him glance back at Ginny, who had now been joined by Dean.  
  
"But I don't feel so out of control when something bothers me. It was like, whenever I got angry before... he... _it_... got off on it, made it a thousand times worse..."  
  
"And that's gone now?"  
  
Harry frowned at her.  
  
"Yeah... Hermione, what's this about?"  
  
"I'm worried about you, that's all," she said. "I guess I'm not used to you being so calm most of the time. You seem so much more mature this year. I just wanted to know that you're okay."  
  
Harry grunted and mumbled, "I'll be fine, Hermione. Eventually."  
  
He went back to his book, and Hermione to hers, but she only pretended to read. She reached out once more with her mind, an idea forming. After getting a feel for Harry's current state of mind, which was a slow spiral of boredom, sadness, and annoyance every time he glanced at Ginny and Dean, Hermione focused her attention on a specific spot on his forehead.  
  
Narrowing the scope of her senses, she tentatively sent her thoughts to the scar, determined to see if there was any aberration present in Harry's mind. There was nothing there, not even when Hermione prodded with more of her mind's strength. Harry's thoughts continued their slow loop around her, without any hint of another presence. There was not even the absence of emotion in the scar, as Hermione assumed she would find if the soul fragment was blocking her out.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Yes, Harry?" She slowly reeled her mind back in.  
  
"Er – was that... you?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Were you... trying to read my mind just now?"  
  
Hermione coughed nervously.  
  
"Not... exactly. You know, it doesn't work like that, right?"  
  
Harry stared at her in amazement. "Can you really do that, though? Just... get into my head without me knowing?"  
  
"Well, no... you knew, didn't you?"  
  
Harry eyed her. "Yes, but for how long?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry, I won't do it again... I was just curious to know if I could. I haven't tried since I was in the infirmary under the curse... with Professor Snape."  
  
Harry shuddered at the mention of his name. "Still can't believe you survived talking only to Snape for so long... I might have rather died."  
  
"Harry, stop! Really, I thought you were getting over that grudge."  
  
"I am, but that doesn't mean I have to _like_ him. I just don't _hate_ him... as much... anymore."  
  
Harry smiled wickedly at her and she rolled her eyes at him.  
  
After that night, Hermione had agonized the rest of the week over whether she should tell Professor Snape about her experiment with Legilimency on Harry. He would be angry that she had risked getting close to his mind when there might have been a Horcrux lodged in it still. However, she _had_ been right in believing Harry. There was nothing there but Harry's thoughts, she was sure of it. Short of Severus examining Harry's mind himself – something that Harry would never consent to – there was no better way to know what was going on in his head.  
  
Resolved to tell him what she had done, Hermione had finally decided to go to him immediately after rounds. Upon Ernie's exit, she had quietly called for Truno, and jumped in surprise when he scampered out from a hidden closet in the wall.  
  
"Miss called?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, can you tell me where I might find Professor Snape?"  
  
"Professor Snape be havin' a meetin'. Truno take you there -"  
  
"No, wait," said Hermione, before the elf could whisk her away. "I can just walk to the headmaster's office myself."  
  
"The headmaster is not being in his office," said Truno, taking her arm, and with a quick pinch, they were in a hall Hermione rarely visited, the one that led to the headmaster's rooms and nothing else.  
  
"Ah, thank you, Truno," she said. The elf bowed, and disappeared into another wall, through an opening so tiny it seemed impossible that he would have fit through.  
  
She stood in the hall working up the courage to knock on the door. After all, it must be an important meeting if he was holding it in his private rooms. Perhaps she should wait until tomorrow to talk to him.  
It was then that the door had opened, and Horatia Bartram had stumbled out, somewhat tipsy, it seemed to Hermione.  
  
Hermione rubbed her eyes as the scene replayed once again in her mind. Severus Snape was a man nearly twice her age. Why should she care who he spent his evenings with? There was something wrong with her, Hermione decided, something very wrong, to be feeling so possessive of her professor.  
  
She made it through the weekend in a haze of annoyance at herself for the unmerited depression she could not shake.  
  
A visit to Hogsmeade was scheduled, and naturally she and Harry walked down to the village together. After a few quick stops at the usual shops, they decided to hide out at the Hog's Head Tavern. The place had improved a bit since the end of the war, but it was still not welcoming to most Howarts students.  
  
The tavern was all but deserted when they walked in, and they chose a spot in a dark corner as far away from the only other patron as possible, a hulking shape draped in a rough, hooded cloak.  
  
They ordered drinks, and Hermione watched Aberforth considerately inspect the mugs for dust before he poured their butterbeers.  
  
"You know, Hermione, I don't think Aberforth would mind serving us something a bit – er – stronger, seeing as how we've been of age for a few years now."  
  
"I'll remember that for next time," she said. "Or we could just visit Hagrid instead. Hogsmeade isn't as fun anymore, is it?"  
  
"Not when people walk around snogging in the streets," said Harry, referring to Ron and Padma, whom they had just seen.  
  
They stopped by the Three Broomsticks and grabbed a bite to eat as they walked, going back to the castle early to find an empty common room. The younger students were having lunch in the castle.  
  
They sprawled out on the couch nearest the crackling fire.  
  
"Hermione, do you want to try Legilimency on me again?”  
  
Hermione rolled her head over to look at him.  
  
"Why would you want me to?" she asked curiously.  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"You want to practice, and I don't mind... you already know everything about me anyway, I doubt you will find anything new floating around in there."  
  
She sat up and stared at him.  
  
"Okay. It helps if you're looking at me."  
  
Harry straightened up as well, and looked into her eyes. Hermione closed hers for a moment to clear her mind, and then began to search his out.  
  
"Do you feel that?" she asked, staying just at the edges of his thoughts.  
  
"No..."  
  
Hermione kept moving forward, treading lightly on his amazement and nervousness.  
  
"What about now?"  
  
"Uh... no... sorry."  
  
She got caught up in his uncertainty and lost her grip a bit, grasping at his thoughts more clumsily.  
  
"Oh! Is that you? You just did it, Hermione," said Harry, laughing nervously. "Er – hello."  
  
He was a ball of nerves now, tossing Hermione about with erratic energy. Flashes of her own face sprang up before her eyes. She withdrew and closed her mind.  
  
"That was different," she said.  
  
"That was... strange, but amazing," said Harry. "You don't even need a wand."  
  
Hermione had already told Harry once before that wand use was the sign of a clumsy or impatient Legilimens, or one who was trying to protect their own mind while infiltrating another.  
  
"Hermione, you're incredible... and a little bit scary, now that I know you can do _that_ whenever you want."  
  
"I've promised I won't, Harry. Besides, it would never take you long to realize it was happening. Others might not, but they don't have any experience with Legilimency, or... or having another mind in their own."  
  
Harry stood up and offered his hand to pull her up out of the squashy cushions. He didn't let go once she was up, though.  
  
"Can we... try something else different?" he asked, gazing at her, and Hermione saw what he meant in his eyes.  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"We're such good friends, don't you think... maybe there could be more?"  
  
She looked into her best friend's eyes and saw such sweet caring there that she reconsidered her feelings.  
  
"Perhaps," she said, wishing it could be that easy.  
  
Harry smiled and brushed some of her hair back from her face. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her mouth. Hermione slowly kissed him back, and they sunk back down to the couch. It was such a nice feeling, to be kissed, Hermione reflected.  
  
Harry was quite good at snogging, but after a few moments Hermione collected her wits, and managed to pull away.  
  
"Harry... uh, wow... you're... you're really good at that..."  
  
He smiled sheepishly.  
  
"I might not have as much practice as _Ron_ , but I can be a fast learner when I want," he said.  
  
She sat up, pushing away from him. "But Harry..."  
  
He sighed and looked at her wistfully. "I know. It didn't change anything."  
  
She took his hand. "Do you really like me... _that_ way?"  
  
Harry looked away.  
  
"It's only just happened," he said. "But after that kiss, I dunno..."  
  
She slapped him in mock outrage.  
  
"Oh! I was that bad, was I?"  
  
"No, not at all," he answered seriously. "But _I_ just didn't feel... what I thought I would."  
  
"Because I'm not Ginny," Hermione said simply. "And you still love her."  
  
Harry was silent for a moment.  
  
"I shouldn't though! What's wrong with us, Hermione? Half the school thinks we're dating, we spend all our time together, and we are better for one another than the people we're trying to get over... shouldn't we have fallen in love by now?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "I don't think that's how it works, Harry. Unless you believe in arranged marriages. We are too much like brother and sister, that's why us kissing didn't change anything. We will never be lovers, but we will always be there for one another. Our bond is the strongest there is – you're my family. No matter what happens, or who we end up with in life."  
  
"And you're mine, Hermione – you're the only family I've got now."  
  
This revelation laid out between then, Hermione found that their friendship became even easier. Harry started spending more time with Neville and Ernie – who was now dating Hannah Abbott – and by the end of the week, he could be found joking around with the Quidditch team again, though perhaps still mostly ignoring Ron. There were moments, though, that Hermione thought she saw some of the boys' old friendship returning.  
  
The next two weeks passed slowly, and the school began gearing up for the next Quidditch match, Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw. Hermione continued to immerse herself in her studies, but she took the time to see Harry, Luna, Neville, and even Ginny whenever possible. Ginny and Dean were always off somewhere together, though, so it was not often that Hermione saw her alone. Their friendship consisted of hanging out for short periods of time, not talking about Harry, Dean, or Ron.  
  
Hermione still avoided speaking to Professor Snape about Harry, unable to trust that she could be alone with him without giving him a hint of her thoughts. Her feelings for him haunted and embarrassed her daily, and she kept her mind occluded at all times in his classes. It seemed that the only thing snogging Harry had awoken in her was a greater desire to act upon her attraction to Severus Snape.  
  
He had said nothing to her about that night with Bartram, but he owed her no explanations. She was only his student, after all. Still, she wondered why he did not ask her why she had been standing outside the door to his rooms. Obviously she had been there with something important.  
  
Much to Hermione's relief, it seemed as though the scene she had witnessed between the headmaster and Professor Bartram had been the end of whatever was going on between them. Professor Bartram now looked as depressed as Hermione had felt at the prospect of Snape and Bartram having an affair. She had not worn her signature red lipstick since that evening, and often times now her hair was worn up in a sensible bun or the top pulled back and secured with a simple clip.  
  
Harry had taken to walking Hermione's rounds with her under the cloak. He was still convinced that Draco was up to something nefarious, claiming that he had seen him on more than one occasion hanging about in the hall in front of Snape's office.  
  
"Harry, I'm sure he's just waiting for Professor Snape," said Hermione. "He's probably one of the only people Draco can talk to about... things."  
  
"I don't think so, he's always sort of... whispering to himself, and when he sees someone else walk by, he leaves," said Harry. "You'll see, just make sure you keep patrolling that corridor tonight."  
  
Hermione promised that she would do as Harry asked, though she didn't think Draco was a threat to anyone anymore. He looked sad, sick, and lonely, and that was all.  
  
Her advanced classes were quickly becoming all-consuming. They were scheduled to take their N.E.W.T.s at the end of January, and there was not much time left after factoring in the Christmas holiday. To her surprise, Potions was quickly becoming Hermione's favorite subject. She had assumed that either Defense or Transfiguration would be her choice for further study, but now she was seriously considering Potions. With advanced study and an apprenticeship, she could research, test, and create new healing potions, work as an apothecary, an independent researcher, a freelance potions creator, or a potions safety tester for new trials of healing potions or potions sold commercially – all options that she found fascinating as careers.  
  
She could even teach, though Hermione was not sure she could see herself as a professor – she would have little patience for lazy or dim-witted students.  
  
In addition to enjoying the subject matter, Hermione was enjoying the atmosphere of advanced Potions class. Su Li barely spoke, but when she did it was always insightful, and Tracey Davis had turned out to be quick-witted and often deeply sarcastic, but also a good sport about their mutual competition in class. On the few occasions they were required to work with a partner, Professor Snape would put them together while he worked with Su Li, who tended to work more slowly than Hermione and Tracey.  
  
"So... are you taking Harry Potter to the winter ball?"  
  
Such a question from Tracey came out of nowhere one day in class. They usually talked about Potions.  
  
"We're going together, yes," replied Hermione. "Just as friends."  
  
Tracey shook her head.  
  
"You're never going to get a real date if you keep taking your best friend to every dance," she said bluntly.  
  
"Maybe I don't want a real date," said Hermione. "Besides, this school is so small, everyone else had already gotten a partner."  
  
Hermione stirred the potion rapidly fifty times before speaking again.  
  
"Why? Did you want to ask Harry to go with you?"  
  
Tracey made a sound of disapproval.  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, then, who _are_ you taking?"  
  
Tracey added the next five ingredients in order at ten second intervals as Hermione stirred figure eights slowly through the bubbling potion.  
  
"My fiance," she said.  
  
"You're engaged?" marveled Hermione. Tracey didn't seem like the sort of witch who would marry young.  
  
"Mmhm," Tracey murmured, as she counted out the long black seed pods that would be added next. The two young women worked in silent concentration for the next few minutes.  
  
"So... who is he?" asked Hermione at last.  
  
"Gregory Hancock."  
  
"Wasn't he that tall Ravenclaw Beater who graduated in our fifth year?"  
  
"That would be Greg," said Tracy, smiling slightly, as she well might if she was remembering her fiance in his Quidditch robes, looking as fit and dreamy as Hermione recalled. Greg Hancock had been the tall, dark, silent type, with the deepest, warmest chocolate brown eyes that Hermione had ever seen.  
  
"I didn't know you two were dating," said Hermione. "You must have kept it very quiet."  
  
Tracey laughed.  
  
"Well... we weren't dating then. He was actually dating my older sister. She graduated a year ahead of him."  
  
"You... you stole your sister's boyfriend?" Hermione whispered.  
  
"I didn't _steal_ him," said Tracey. "Gabbi dumped him right after graduation to take a job in the states, and was married to an American wizard by the time she came home to visit a year later."  
  
They finished their potion and bottled it while Snape was still walking Su Li through the slow cooling process. He came over to examine their work.  
  
"Well done, Granger, Davis."  
  
He said it while holding Hermione's gaze, and she felt heat rising in her face. She struggled to keep her mind clear, but not before the memory of him standing in the doorway of his rooms, saying her name with lipstick-stained lips, surfaced briefly.  
  
He blinked and turned away.  
  
That night as Hermione and Ernie made their rounds, Harry made his own under the cloak. Hermione had just met Ernie at the staircase after the second round when she heard Harry whisper her name.  
  
"Hermione! Go to the headmaster's office, Draco's headed there now. I'll follow you!"  
  
She set off in the direction of the headmaster's office, sensing Harry close behind her. Slowing down once she reached the corridor on the seventh floor, Hermione strolled along as though on her normal route through her rounds. Sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy, standing in front of the gargoyle at the entrance to the headmaster's office. She could hear him whispering something quietly to himself.  
  
"Malfoy, what are you doing up here?" she asked authoritatively, her hand instinctively tightening around her wand.  
  
He turned around and looked at her with such a frightening, predatory expression that Hermione gasped and drew her wand.  
  
"Don't worry, Granger, I'm leaving," he said. "Follow me to the dungeons, if you wish."  
  
He walked past her, nearly bumping into her as he left. Hermione sensed Harry following him, and hissed, "Don't let him see you, Harry!"  
  
Hermione relaxed, alone in the hall at last. She finished her rounds and went back to the common room, where Harry was waiting for her.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"He just went back to his dormitory," said Harry, and shrugged.  
  
"Did you see how he looked at me?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Yeah. So... are you going to tell Snape?"  
  
"What? Harry, what am I supposed to tell him, exactly?"  
  
"That Malfoy's been acting all shifty lately out in the corridor by his office. Snape should know. Hermione, promise me you will tell him."  
  
Hermione stared at the fire for a moment.  
  
"Yeah, you're right. I'll have to talk to him."


	14. The Talk

Horatia Bartram was dealing with rejection just as dramatically as she had acted while pursuing Severus. Her hair barely done, lipstick foregone, she walked the halls looking like a sullen teen and only spoke to Severus when absolutely necessary.  
  
As it turned out, she had already told her life story to the rest of the faculty, and Severus was actually one of the last to hear it. Bartram certainly had a flair for the dramatic, and loved to tell a good story, especially if she was the star.  
  
Minerva and Margaret White were thoroughly amused by the recent turn of events. They had quickly sussed out the cause of Bartram's change of demeanor.  
  
“So, you rejected her?” White had asked a few days later, at breakfast. “I must say, you're a stronger man than most. She is gorgeous, after all.”  
  
“I hardly think that an excuse for impropriety with a junior professor,” he said.  
  
“Oh, pish posh, Severus,” she said. “You're just too smart to get caught up in what would have surely been a public affair if she had anything to do with it. It was a wise decision, I think.”  
  
“Yes, Severus,” said Minerva. “I am quite proud of you for resisting the charms of such a ravishing beauty. She's still quite attractive, even without her face on today.”  
  
Professor Bartram had just walked into the great hall for breakfast. The two women grew quiet as she approached and sat down at the far end of the table.  
  
Over the next two weeks, Severus noticed that Hermione kept her mind completely closed to him. What was she keeping from him? A hint came the day she slipped up in Potions class. By chance, they held eye contact just long enough for Severus to catch a glimpse of what was going on in her mind – horrified shock accompanied by the sight of his own face smeared with lipstick. So, she was indeed thinking of that moment whenever she saw him. Her face had colored with embarrassment, and Severus had turned away to hide his own. At least she could be trusted not to tell anyone what she had witnessed, more than could be said for any other student in the school.  
  
Severus found himself mortified about what Hermione had seen, yet he had no justification for feeling he had wronged her personally. He was the headmaster of Hogwarts, and she was a student. There was no rule against relationships between faculty members – the wizarding world was much more lax about such things than Muggles tended to be. In fact, many Hogwarts professors met their spouses while teaching together – they had no time for a social life elsewhere.  
  
As the end of November drew near, Severus was bombarded daily by mail from Mara Singleton in preparation for the winter ball, which was quickly becoming the most elaborate function Severus had ever witnessed in all his years at Hogwarts, both as student and professor. A few members of the press would be there, as well as the staff of _Young Witch,_ those who donated most generously to the Hogwarts Fund, and representatives from the Ministry of Magic. Severus was beginning to dread the evening already.  
  
Flitwick had convinced Severus to allow himself and McGonagall to teach dance lessons to the students, and Minerva reluctantly agreed to the plan under Filius' insistence.  
  
An owl dropped yet another letter written in Mara Singleton's hand on the table in front of Severus. He opened it with some apprehension. What did the witch want now?  
  
 _Professor Snape,  
  
I just realized we have yet to settle the matter of which students shall be allowed to stay for the entirety of the ball. I would like for all of the students to be present at the feast and short ceremony that follows. I remember you suggested that it is customary for formal dances to include only fourth year students and older – perhaps in light of the invitations extended to outside adult guests, and the nature of the event, we should limit the after party to only fifth or sixth year students and older.  
  
Let me know your thoughts,  
  
M. Singleton_  
  
Severus was in favor of limiting the number of silly young students at the ball as much as possible. It would greatly improve the evening for all involved. Offering the party only to the sixth and seventh year students would include those who actually fought in the battle of Hogwarts – the younger students had been evacuated during the battle.  
  
Satisfied with his answer, Severus went to his office to write a reply before DADA class that morning. The portraits pretended to be asleep while he was there, after the tongue-lashing he had given them a few days ago. They had been taking the piss out of him continuously since they realized that he had held his meeting with Bartram away from their prying eyes. One of the portraits in the hall had tattled on him, it would seem.  
  
DADA class was having a written exam that day, and a demonstration of spell work later in the week. It would be a quiet morning, as the exam was long, and Severus expected detailed essay answers to be sure the students knew every last bit of information that might be on the N.E.W.T.s.  
  
He read as the students worked. As usual, Hermione wrote furiously, and was the first one finished. He later noticed that she kept stealing glances at him from her desk while skimming a textbook. Her mind was completely occluded. At least, it was until he felt her thoughts assault him out of nowhere, an urgent wave of anxiousness that prodded him like a sharp nail to the temple.  
  
Winching, he glared at her – she was staring at him openly now.  
  
 _I need to talk to you! After class?_  
  
He attempted to seek out her mind for an answer, but it was closed to him once more. He raised his chin in a slight nod, annoyed. Severus picked up her exam and began to grade it on the spot. After a few moments he viciously underlined a few lines, then paused.  
  
“Miss Granger... see me after class.”  
  
A ripple of fear ran through the other students, as they wondered what the top student in the class could have written to result in such a command. Quills scratched feverishly across parchment as they scrambled to finish by the end of class... but not so early that their work would be examined by Severus while they sat watching him.  
  
Hermione sat at her desk as the class filed out, head bowed. When the door shut behind Anthony Goldstein, Severus flicked his wand at it to secure the lock. He approached Hermione where she sat.  
  
“What have you to tell me, Hermione?” he asked in a low voice.  
  
She looked up at him through a mass of frizzy curls.  
  
“A few things,” she said. “When I came to your rooms the other night, I was coming to tell you about Harry. I called Truno, and he brought me there. I didn't know you were... busy.”  
  
Severus crossed his arms uncomfortably.  
  
“So, you've waited this long to tell me something about Potter?”  
  
Hermione shot him an annoyed look.  
  
“Yes, but only because it's actually _good_ news.” She stood up, eyes challenging him now. “And because you're not going to like how I did it.”  
  
Severus narrowed his eyes at her, wishing she was not occluding her mind so successfully at that moment.  
  
“Did... what?”  
  
She a bit faltered under his scrutiny.  
  
“I – uh – sort of – explored his mind – a bit.”  
  
“You did _what?!_ ” he hissed explosively. He turned around for a moment to calm his temper.  
  
Spinning back around, he took a breath. “What possessed you to do such a extraordinarily idiotic thing?”  
  
Hermione grew determined again, the stubborn glint returning to her eyes.  
  
“I didn't plan to do it, the idea just came to me one day. Harry's emotions are so easy to read. He didn't even notice me in his mind until I had already determined there was no danger.”  
  
Severus started pacing angrily.  
  
“ _You_ determined there was no danger! What qualifies _you_ to make such an assessment?”  
  
He stopped and grabbed her shoulders suddenly. “You could have been possessed while in Potter's head! Do you not understand the severe foolishness of the risk you took?”  
  
Hermione wrapped her hands around his wrists firmly, but did not push him away. She looked into his eyes. “Let me show you what happened. Harry is the only one in his head. There was nothing to suggest otherwise, I'm sure of it. Trust me.”  
  
With that she sent a memory shooting into his consciousness, slamming into his mind with enough force that he loosened his hold on her shoulders. Their hands dropped together, but she did not let go until the memory had finished playing out between them.  
  
She was right. Her Legilimency had been flawless, and she had been thorough in her exploration of Potter's head. The boy, miraculously, had accomplished Dumbledore's plan even without Severus telling him of his fate.  
  
He became conscious of Hermione's face in front of him once more. She released her hold on his hands.  
  
“If you want,” she said, “I can probably convince Harry to let me see his memories of the battle, and of speaking with Dumbledore after being hit by the Killing Curse. I don't think it's necessary... do you?”  
  
“No,” he said. “It seems you are correct in your evaluation of Potter's mind, despite your impulsive and dangerous method of confirming it.”  
  
A moment of silence passed between them before Hermione took a breath.  
  
“There is something else I should tell you.”  
  
Severus felt an inexplicable sense of nervousness at her words, until she spoke again.  
  
“It's about Draco Malfoy.”  
  
Severus frowned. “Malfoy? He's been keeping to himself this year. What's he done?”  
  
“Well, nothing really... except hang around outside your office late at night. I caught him again last night, whispering something by the gargoyle, and when he saw me, the way he looked at me was... so strange.”  
  
“Show me.”  
  
She obliged, once more throwing a memory at him with the force of a strong slap.  
  
“Merlin, next time do it with a bit of bloody finesse! I know you're capable of it!” he exclaimed as he watched memory-Draco turn and give Hermione what could only be described as a vicious, bloodthirsty leer.  
  
“See what I mean?” Hermione asked. “I know he's technically not done anything but hang about in the hall after curfew, but... he's never looked at me like that before, even back when he was calling me a 'Mudblood' in the halls... and I've not had any trouble with him yet this year. He must have been quite angry at being interrupted, whatever he was doing.”  
  
Severus was indeed disturbed by what he had just seen. He would have to talk to Draco again soon.  
  
“I will speak to him. ”  
  
Hermione nodded. “Thank you.”  
  
She gathered her things and left, her mind still occluded, her expression giving away nothing.  
  
Severus called Draco to his office after lunch, resolved to find out what the boy was dealing with, and whether he was hanging outside the office in the evenings either hoping Severus would find him, or working up the courage to seek out his former head of house and protector.  
  
“My office immediately after lunch,” he had told the young man as he walked by his table in the great hall. “And if you don't show up, I shall send a house-elf to fetch you.”  
  
Draco came of his own accord, a blank expression on his face, his mind occluded.  
  
“Draco. I hear you've been slinking about the castle after curfew, in front of my office, no less.”  
  
“Granger told you that, did she?” he asked with vitriol.  
  
“There have been... numerous reports of your activities,” Severus replied, as was true, since Truno had mentioned the same a week or so earlier.  
  
Draco was silent.  
  
“Do you plan to return home for Christmas?” Severus asked conversationally.  
  
Draco glared at him.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“What of your plans after graduation?”  
  
“I hardly know,” said Draco lazily. “Doesn't much matter.”  
  
Severus' temper flared.  
  
“Perhaps. It. _Should._ ”  
  
Draco just rolled his eyes at him.  
  
“My family can still take care of me until I figure out what I want to do... after I finish this pathetic excuse for an education.”  
  
“Might I remind you, Draco, that your presence here is a _privilege,_ ” Severus said icily. “And you are one smart-arse remark away from having that privilege revoked.”  
  
Draco glared at him, but sat up in his chair.  
  
“Sorry, Headmaster,” he spit out, and sank into steely silence once more.  
  
“If you're not interested in talking to me, so be it,” said Severus. “But do not think that you are exempt from any of the school rules just because of our... history. If you have reason to be outside my office, see to it that it is within school day hours, and don't stand dithering about if you can't work up the courage to speak to me! That is all, Draco, you may go.”  
  
The boy stood angrily and made to leave.  
  
“Draco, wait,” said Severus. Draco stopped but did not turn to look at him.  
  
“Take care not to waste the freedom your parents fought to give you... do not dwell on dark thoughts or seek out Dark Magic for relief. It will destroy you.”  
  
“Thank for the advice,” Draco hissed sarcastically, and left.  
  
Severus was now deeply concerned for Draco. Instead of taking charge of his life, free from the power of the Dark Lord, he was sinking deeper and deeper into anger and depression. He must feel that his life had been stolen from him, first by the controlling whims of his father, and then by Voldemort, whose rule he had first been groomed to respect, and then compelled to obey.  
  
Severus was more worried that the boy would hurt himself, than that he would harm another student.  
  
Draco avoided Severus the rest of the week, ducking around corners or changing direction whenever they crossed paths.  
  
Potions class went well as usual, and Severus noticed that Hermione and Tracey Davis were talking and laughing together as they worked.  
  
The DADA spell work exam also went smoothly. It was a nerve-wracking experience for Severus, since one unit of spells focused on counter-curses for spells that might block a wizard's airways. The students worked in pairs. Severus would clearly state the curse to be used, and then he would perform it on the first partner. The second partner had precisely fifteen seconds to reverse the spell before Severus stepped in to do it for them. Any longer than that, and he worried the cursed partner would begin to panic, which would make it harder to work a counter-curse on them.  
  
The students were all successful in saving their partners without assistance. The students were also given the option of earning bonus points for attempting to reverse the curses themselves, which all of them did quite easily. Severus was impressed with their show of control.  
  
Severus followed the last student out of the door, remembering that he had yet another reply to send to Mara Singleton that day. He walked impatiently behind the crowd of students converging in a herd as they went to the great hall for lunch. He saw Hermione's mass of curls bobbing along at the end of the hall, and watched her pause to let some first year girls cross in front of her. One of the girls dropped a scroll, and Hermione reached down to pick it up. Handing it to her with a smile, Hermione started to walk again without noticing that Draco was hurrying down the hall toward her in the opposite direction, wand out.  
  
“Watch out, Granger!” Draco shouted, but it was too late.  
  
She slammed into him heavily, causing him to shout, “Bloody hell! Shit!”  
  
Students formed a crowd around them, shouting. The cackling of Peeves rang out over the din, and he promptly dropped a water balloon filled with foul-smelling liquid on Severus' head before disappearing from sight.  
  
“Help her!” screamed someone, and everyone's attention was drawn back to Hermione, whose face had started to swell. She was choking. Draco attempted to find his dropped wand, which had rolled into the crowd. Severus began pushing students out of the way.  
  
“MOVE!” he shouted. “OUT OF THE WAY!”  
  
He swooped down on Hermione where she sat on the floor, pointing her wand at her own throat. Severus pulled her into his arms and quickly performed the counter-curse to the swelling jinx that was closing her throat and distorting her features. She relaxed as she was finally able to take a deep breath again. She stared up at him with a look of tranquil confusion.  
  
“Miss Granger, are you able to speak?” he asked urgently. She smiled slightly.  
  
“Why did you do that?”  
  
“Why did I do what, Granger?”  
  
“I knew the spell,” she said, frowning. “I was quite capable of... saving myself... thank you.”  
  
Severus could sense that her mind was fuzzy. She was likely concussed from the force of the curse hitting her face at such a close range.  
  
“My head aches,” she said, trying to sit up.  
  
“Wait,” he said. “Hold still.”  
  
He conjured up a stretcher and placed stabilizing charms on her neck, despite her insistence that she was perfectly fine. Lifting her gently onto it, he finally looked at the throng of murmuring students. Draco was staring at him as if he had just realized how much trouble he was in.  
  
“Malfoy, my office. Immediately. Mr. Macmillan, accompany Miss Granger to the infirmary.”  
  
He pointed his wand at the stretcher and it began floating away, with Ernie walking beside it.  
  
Severus turned back to Draco.  
  
“March.”  
  
The moment they were inside he rounded on the boy.  
  
“Your answer to my concern and warnings to you is to attempt to murder the head girl?!”  
  
“Are you even going to give me a chance to explain?!” countered Draco frantically. “Of course I didn't try to curse Granger! Merlin's balls!”  
  
“What, then?”  
  
“I was coming after Peeves,” Draco said. “A first-year in Slytherin brought in a bag of balloons, and Peeves got his bloody hands on it, of course... he's been filling them with niffler piss and bombing us all week. You smell like a litter box, by the way... mind stepping off a bit?”  
  
Severus took a step back.  
  
“And just how did you happen to hit Miss Granger in the face with a swelling jinx?”  
  
“I was trying to bust the damn balloon before he got to you, as he told me he intended to do. He was sneaking up behind you when I caught up with him. Granger popped up out of nowhere and ran straight into the spell. Not surprising, as I hear she's been known to fall in front of curses before...”  
  
“I see...” said Severus. “And why did you not simply levitate it away from him?”  
  
“Believe me, I tried. He's got an impressively strong grip, as it turns out.”  
  
Severus caught a whiff of himself and nearly gagged.  
  
“Very well, Draco. I'm satisfied, but you still owe Miss Granger an apology... in my presence. We will visit her in the infirmary this evening.”  
  
Severus sent Draco away and went straight to his rooms to shower and change. After a quick lunch, he went to the infirmary to check on Hermione.  
  
She was sleeping when he got there. Madam Pomfrey saw him and hurried over.  
  
“She's fine, Severus, just resting with the help of a Calming Draught. She started becoming a bit hysterical when I told her I needed to perform some spells on her mind to check for a concussion. Nothing wrong with her head, but I think she was quite shook up. Have you expelled Malfoy, then?”  
  
“No,” said Severus, noticing her disapproval. “It's a long story, involving Peeves... Malfoy was not aiming for Granger or any other student.”  
  
“Oh, I see,” said Pomfrey. “Well, I'm glad it was not intentional.”  
  
“If it had been, I'm not sure I could have left the boy in one piece,” Severus muttered. “Draco will, however, be returning with me tonight to apologize.”  
  
Severus went to sit by Hermione, who seemed to be sleeping comfortably. After a few long moments, he watched her eyes open and focus on him for a second as she rearranged her arms. One hand reached out toward him and fell to rest hanging off the edge of her bed.  
  
It was then that Severus noticed the large, cat-like creature sleeping under the bed, or rather, no longer sleeping as it was looking up at him with large almond eyes. Hagrid's new pet was not supposed to be in the castle.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Severus asked her. She responded by stretching and standing to nuzzle Hermione's outstretched hand before coming to sit at Severus' feet and study him. Severus scowled at the creature, and she suddenly leapt up to place her enormous paws on his lap, sniffing at him and purring.  
  
“Severus, what happened?”  
  
The panther-cat disappeared under the bed again. Severus would have to tell Hagrid to come up and retrieve it.  
  
Minerva and Margaret White were walking toward him, both looking quite concerned. Severus filled them in on the incident, and the three of them left together, the women to their respective classrooms, and Severus to his office to finally compose his letter.  
  
Later that evening, just before curfew, he and Draco returned to the infirmary in silence. Hermione was sitting up in bed reading by the light of the wall sconce and a bright vial of dancing blue flames.  
  
“Miss Granger,” he said as she noticed them. “Mr. Malfoy would like to explain his actions to you.”  
  
In halting sentences, Draco told his side of the story.  
  
“...and, I'm sorry... Gra- uh, Hermione. It was truly... an accident.”  
  
Hermione sat staring at him, her book still open on her lap.  
  
“Okay,” she said at last. “I accept your apology.”  
  
Draco grunted and cast a sideways glace at Severus, clearly hoping to be dismissed.  
  
“Go, Draco,” he intoned, quickly losing patience with the boy.  
  
Hermione fiddled with her sheets.  
  
“Thanks for helping me today,” she said. “I suppose I panicked a bit...”  
  
“As did I... needlessly, for it seems you were already casting the counter-curse. Quite impressive under the circumstances.”  
  
“Yes, well... thanks.”  
  
“You're welcome.”  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
“I don't know why Madam Pomfrey has insisted that I stay here tonight. I'm perfectly fine.”  
  
Severus watched her hands continue to smooth imaginary wrinkles in the sheets.  
  
“Rest, Hermione,” he said, reaching down to close her book, then placing it on the night stand. She looked at him as if to protest, but stopped when he placed a hand over one of hers to stop it moving.  
  
Her mind was still closed to him, but her eyes told him that she was conflicted, perhaps worried that Draco's story was a carefully constructed lie. He peered at her with concern.  
  
“You don't believe Draco.”  
  
Hermione blinked.  
  
“No, I believe him... he isn't stupid enough to try to jinx me in front of half the school, including you.”  
  
“Then what is it that worries you? You may have closed your mind to me, but your eyes are giving you away.”  
  
In an instant, the emotion left her face, and her expression was as inscrutable as her mind.  
  
“Nothing of consequence,” she said simply. “Just something... personal I need to deal with. Besides, it was you who once told me I left my mind too open, so I've been practicing Occlumency. You're the only one who can tell me if I've improved.”  
  
Severus stood up and studied her.  
  
“You have.”


	15. The Winter Ball

Hermione was tired of studying in her room, but there was no other spot she could go in the castle to escape her peers and their incessant talk of the winter ball, to be held in just two weeks on December 19th, the day after the last exam of the term. On Monday, McGonagall would ask them to submit requests to stay in the castle over the holidays.  
  
Hermione had decided to accompany Harry to Grimmauld Place over the break. She would have stayed in the castle with him, if that was his plan, but he was dead set on getting the Marauder's Map back even though Draco had not been sighted doing anything odd since the incident with Peeves and the swelling jinx.  
  
Thankfully, staying with Harry over the holidays was not an issue with her parents. Her mother had written her weeks ago to say that they would be visiting family in the states for Christmas, and that they would meet her in London for New Years, just in time to see her off back to school.  
  
However, that morning at breakfast, Hermione received another letter from her mother.  
  
 _Hermione,  
  
I'm happy to hear that you won't be spending the holidays alone in the castle, but I'm surprised that you won't be at the Weasleys' at all this year. I know you thought of them as family, and I hope you can find time in your schedule to see them at least once.  
  
I know that young love is a powerful thing, but don't get too caught up in your relationship with Harry and forget who your friends are – you will need them to be there for you if you and Harry don't work out. I know you'll think I'm just being pessimistic, you must know that your first relationship most likely won't last forever.  
  
Harry Potter seems like a sweet, attentive boy, and I would like to see more of him if you two are serious enough to be living together over the holidays (and I assume, after graduation, since you say you were together last summer as well).  
  
I don't know why you are determined to keep this relationship hidden, but I hope you know that I am happy you have someone special in your life at last. You are a beautiful, smart young woman who deserves the best.  
  
Love,  
Mum_  
  
Hermione sighed and folded the letter into her bag. She took a bite of toast, and began giggling to herself, imagining the look on her mother's face if Hermione told her the truth – that she considered Harry only a brother, and was actually falling for the headmaster of Hogwarts, the very same man who had taught her Potions since she was eleven and who also happened to have killed the former headmaster in a secret mercy-death plot that served to cement his position as a double-agent spy for the Dark wizard that Harry had been fated to defeat in the recent magical war.  
  
“What's so funny, Hermione?” asked Luna, setting aside her copy of _The Quibbler._  
  
“I – I,” Hermione gasped. “I just...” She chuckled.“Oh, Luna, it's too ridiculous to even try to explain!”  
  
“I doubt that,” said Luna airily. “But I can tell that it's something private, so I won't pry.”  
  
Neville, who had been listening to this exchange, just stared at Hermione as he held a forkful of potatoes mid-air.  
  
Harry arrived.  
  
“Hiya, Hermione!”  
  
She wiped the laughter tears from her eyes.  
  
“You're awfully chipper this morning,” she observed, as Harry bounced into his seat.  
  
“Oh, yeah... well, I heard Ginny and Dean having a massive row in the common room just now,” he said, filling his plate. “What can I say, I guess it just... brightened my day.”  
  
Hermione was consumed by yet another fit of giggles, which left Harry and the rest of the table looking perplexed. Once she calmed down, she looked around the table casually.  
  
“Sorry. It's just... I think I might know what their row was about,” said Hermione. “But I really shouldn't say. Excuse me.”  
  
She had to leave the table before anyone questioned her further. Ginny had recently been complaining about Dean's rather strange obsession with her elbows.  
  
Elbows! Hermione snorted, and doubled over again. If not for her own absurd love problem adding to her mood, she might not currently find Ginny's issues so hilarious. Poor Ginny was incredibly ticklish, and as luck would have it her elbows were the worst places for it. Dean loved to gently run his fingers over them when they were... well, in rather intimate positions. It drove Ginny mad, and not in a good way. She had threatened to hex him bald the next time he tried it.  
  
Walking down the corridor, Hermione saw Dean hurrying down the stairs, a beanie pulled down low over his ears.  
  
“I like your hat!” she called cheerily, and Dean scowled at her. Laughing once more, Hermione held her stomach as she walked. She was beginning to get a cramp.  
  
Not even the looming exams could dull her sudden good mood. Hermione was so prepared for the exams, she could probably have spent the rest of the time left in the semester sleeping all day and still ace them.  
  
But it was not in Hermione's power to stop studying, so she still spent many evenings in her room with her notes and her books. Some of those evenings, though, she spent with Harry, Luna, and Neville in the common room, and still others with Tracey Davis in the library.  
  
Soon, it was time for the winter ball. Only sixth and seventh year students were invited, and there was to be special seating for them at dinner – four to a table. They had to make their seating requests early.  
  
Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Luna would make up a table. Much to Ginny's annoyance, she and Dean were to be with Lavender and her date. Ron, Padma, Parvati and Anthony would make a third. Hermione was dying to see Tracey with Greg, because the usually serious Slytherin became quite a ray of sunshine when talking about her fiance.  
  
Much of what the magazine had planned for them was a surprise, but from the news and rumors flying around the castle, it would be an elaborate affair with some members of the Ministry and reporters in attendance.  
  
Ginny had offered her assistance in taming Hermione's hair for the evening. They started the process early, before Lavender had even left the bath.  
  
“I don't think we should straighten it, do you?” asked Ginny cautiously.  
  
“Definitely not,” said Hermione. “It takes too long and doesn't look like... me.”  
  
“Okay, so loose waves? Or just de-frizz the curls and keep all the volume?”  
  
“Hmm... let's just de-frizz and keep the curls for once.”  
  
Hermione worked on the front sections of hair while Ginny wrangled the back. Before long, Hermione had a much neater, sleeker mass of curls on her head than usual. With a bit more spell-work, they stretched the strands slightly and Ginny helped her arrange and magically pin it back from her face, cascading down the back of her head, falling to the spot on her back between her shoulder blades.  
  
“I love it!” she said, as Ginny held up a mirror behind her.  
  
“Hold on,” said Ginny. “Er – Padma taught me this spell – it's perfect...”  
  
She tapped her wand on Hermione's head and slowly ran the tip back and forth across Hermione's curls. Subtle shimmering silver appeared in the strands, forming tiny snow-flake-like clusters here and there.  
  
“I feel like a Disney princess,” Hermione said, getting only a blank look from Ginny in return.  
  
“It's lovely.”  
  
Hermione set herself to the task of applying at least a bare minimum of make-up – eyeliner, mascara, and just a hint of color on her cheeks. Ginny insisted on helping her add some more eye make-up, claiming that they were her best feature. Hermione had to admit that the effect was nice, and she appreciated that Ginny had done it for her since she did not have the patience or desire to learn such things herself.  
  
Hermione had purchased her dress in Hogsmeade, as many of the girls had. She had picked a simple pale blue gown made of chiffon – sort of a grown up version of her dress at the Yule Ball. This one was so pale and muted that it reminded Hermione of a winter morning sky over snow-covered hills. It was strapless, a simple empire sheath with a flowing skirt that trailed the floor behind her, and had a lovely crossed-over draping of the fabric on the bodice.  
  
Hermione carefully removed her mother's diamond earrings and pendant necklace from the small velvet covered box in which they had arrived a few days earlier. Her mother had been insistent on sending them when she heard about the ball, which Hermione had described to her as a strange combination of a senior school dance and a star-studded awards ceremony.  
  
After checking her reflection once more in the full-length mirror, Hermione took out her wand and murmured a spell at her reflection. A flash blinded her for a moment, and then a wispy image of herself hung briefly in the air before swirling into a neat ball of color and light that looked like something one might find inside a lava lamp.  
  
“To Mum and Dad,” she commanded it, and it whisked away through the window glass and out into the night.  
  
“Hermione, you look fantastic!” exclaimed Ginny.  
  
“So do you,” replied Hermione, taking in Ginny's transformation. Her hair was long, straight, and glowing softly in the lamplight. She wore a shimmering dark hue of purple-grey, her form-fitting dress seemingly made of water in the way it rippled as she moved. Wide straps held up the gently dipped sweetheart neckline, and it had an open back that plunged down to her waist. The floor-length skirt skimmed over her legs, nipping in and back out again as it reached her feet.  
  
“You look like a fairy tale mermaid,” said Hermione. “A siren, I suppose.”  
  
Ginny smiled and secured a gold cuff around her wrist, which Hermione recognized as a birthday gift from Fleur.  
  
“Thanks, Hermione.”  
  
The girls parted ways to meet their dates and went down to the great hall, which was already full of students and buzzing with excitement.  
  
“Oh, how perfectly charming!” said Luna as they entered, feasting their eyes on the lavish decorations. There were enormous ice sculptures of various magical birds and winged creatures positioned around the room, and the ceiling was snowing gently. Sparkling, elaborate winter wreaths were hung on the walls, and intricate spell-work snowflakes as big as Hermione's head floated about in the air as if carried on a light breeze.  
  
They found their seats near the front left side of the room, after pausing to scan the small silver place cards on several white-clothed tables along the way. Harry managed to remember that he should pull out Hermione's chair for her before sitting down. He looked quite uncomfortable.  
  
Both the older students and the faculty were seated together at the front of the room. On the opposite side from Hermione's table sat the members of the Ministry and a few reporters, including Willie Beck. Mara Singleton sat at a table near Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and White. Hagrid and Professors Sprout, Shacklebolt, and Bartram were nearby as well. Hermione noticed that Bartram had reclaimed her usual red lipstick for the evening. Professor Trelawney was whispering something to Professor Vector, who looked somewhat put-out by the experience.  
  
After a while, the lights flashed, and the din of excitement settled down. Once again, Mara Singleton took the spotlight on the raised stage that had been set up at the front of the room.  
  
“I would like to thank everyone who made this evening possible,” she said, first thanking Professor Snape, and then reading through a list of names in front of her. Applause followed, then dinner was served. A small ensemble of instrumentalists played music as the food appeared in front of them. At the end of the meal, Singleton asked for their attention once more before sending the younger students off to their dormitories for the evening.  
  
“We at _Young Witch_ dedicate this celebration to all the students and faculty who fought in the battle of Hogwarts, and we would like to specially honor Headmaster Severus Snape...” she smiled graciously and held her hand up to quell the applause. “Harry Potter... Hermione Granger... and Ronald Weasley... for their sacrifices and bravery in battle. Your actions are the stuff legends are made of, and we are honored to know you. This plaque will hang in the front hall of the Ministry of Magic. If you three would, please stand so that we may all thank you with a round of applause.”  
  
Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Snape all stood, and it was hard to say which one of them looked most uncomfortable at that moment, though Ron seemed to enjoy the attention, flashing a wide smile around the room.  
  
“Well, that was awkward,” said Hermione to Harry, as they returned to their seats, faces red.  
  
“You can say that again,” replied Harry.  
  
With the younger students gone, Flitwick waved his wand at the house tables, and they slid to the edges of the room. The number of instrumentalists suddenly ballooned, and the band began playing a lively waltz.  
  
Hermione and Harry wisely sat the dance out, conscious of the eyes of the reporters on them. They laughed and talked instead, people watching. A few tables away, Ginny and Dean spoke in low, but obviously irritated tones for a few minutes before Ginny sat back in her chair, her arms crossed, silent. Dean's hair had just grown back in, and was still much shorter than usual, but the look suited him, Hermione thought. Lavender and her date, a broad-shouldered wizard in handsome navy dress robes, were moving somewhat clumsily around the dance floor. Hagrid was twirling one of the witches from the magazine, and Bartram had roped Kingsley Shacklebolt into a dance as well.  
  
Hermione's gaze then fell on Mara Singleton, who was dancing with none other than Professor Snape! Mouth agape, Hermione watched as they cut through the dance floor gracefully. Singleton floated through the steps, practically glowing at her partner as he expertly led her.  
  
“Whoa! Professor Snape can dance?!” said Neville, echoing Hermione's thoughts with just as much surprise.  
  
“He's quite good,” agreed Luna. “But then, dance used to be required at Hogwarts instead of flying. Now it's up to parents to pay for private lessons... my father did for me... didn't your gran make you learn, too, Neville?”  
  
“Oh! Yes... shall we?” Neville offered his arm, and Luna curtsied. They started dancing, grinning goofily at one another.  
  
Hermione sighed and scanned the crowd one more. Dean crossed in front of her, visibly upset, and disappeared into the crowd in the direction of the drinks table. As the song ended and another began, Hermione noticed that Dean had not returned and Ginny still sat alone. She nudged Harry.  
  
“Do you think I should invite Ginny over here?” she asked tentatively. “She's been sitting alone...”  
  
Harry considered it for a moment.  
  
“Yeah, go for it. We've sort of made up recently... we can be friends, right?”  
  
Hermione didn't answer, but caught Ginny's eye and waved her over to sit with them.  
  
“Hey, Hermione... Harry,” she said.  
  
“Hey, Ginny,” replied Harry quickly, then fell silent. Hermione attempted conversation with the two of them, but they seemed more interested in staring intently at one another than speaking.  
  
“Well,” she said at last. “I think I'm going to get a drink... do you two want anything?”  
  
“Uh, no thanks, Hermione,” said Harry. Ginny shook her head and smiled.  
  
“Okay... be back in a minute,” said Hermione.  
  
She made her way to the opposite corner of the room and chose one of the bright blue-colored drinks with fizzy bubbles from the array of offerings, not bothering to read their names. She took an experimental sip.  
  
“Oh, that's good!” she said, prompting a nearby sixth year Ravenclaw to follow her lead.  
  
Hermione turned to head back to their table, but as the view became unobscured for a moment, she could see that Harry and Ginny were having a very serious-looking conversation. Hermione edged away from the bustle of the queue for the drink table and stood gazing out at the dance floor, sipping from her glass. Her eyes found Professor Snape once more, who had now been claimed by Margaret White.  
  
“Now, what is the famous Hermione Granger doing standing here all by herself, on a night like this?” came a voice.  
  
Hermione's eyes slid sideways to meet those of Willie Beck, standing beside her with a camera in hand.  
  
“Oh, Merlin, no!”  
  
She held her drink up in front of her face.  
  
“No photographs, please!”  
  
Beck stashed the camera in his robe pocket and held up his hands.  
  
“No problem, not my intention.”  
  
Hermione sipped her drink again, observing him. His curly black hair was shaggy and covered his ears, some falling down over his forehead into his eyes. He was not as tan as the last time she had seen him, and he had lost the goatee.  
  
“Willie Beck,” he said after a beat. “We met before at – ”  
  
“I remember,” said Hermione quickly. “You wanted to interview me at the ceremony, before the announcement of Professor McGonagall being sworn in as Headmistress.”  
  
“Ah, so you _do_ remember me.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Hermione went back to watching Professor Snape, wishing there was some way she could be the one dancing in his arms at that moment.  
  
“Hermione, would you like to dance? Off the record.”  
  
Beck smiled at her, showing his dimples.  
  
“Well, I... sure. I would love to,” said Hermione, quickly throwing back the rest of her drink.  
  
Beck led her out onto the dance floor, and proved to know his way around it quite well, though perhaps without the fluid, decisive movements that Hermione admired in Snape's dancing.  
  
“Do you think you will ever be interested in giving me an interview?” asked Beck.  
  
“Probably not,” said Hermione. “I've been in the papers enough already.”  
  
He chuckled.  
  
“I remember – including those batty stories our advice column editor ran to annoy Snape. Merlin, I'm sorry. If it helps, I'm not at _The Prophet_ anymore.”  
  
Hermione smiled, “It helps, but sorry, still no interview.”  
  
As she danced, Hermione tried to keep an eye on Harry and Ginny, but after a couple turns, she noticed they were no longer at the table.  
  
“Oh no,” she murmured.  
  
“What's wrong?” asked Beck.  
  
“It's just... one of my friends may be doing something rather stupid at the moment,” she said.  
  
“You mean, Harry Potter sneaking off with the Ginny just now?”  
  
Hermione creased her brow at his familiar tone.  
  
“ _The_ Ginny? Do you... know Ginny?”  
  
“Oh yeah... her brothers Charlie and Bill were some of my best mates in school,” he said. “Haven't seen the rest of the family in a while, but I used to love staying at the Weasley house.”  
  
Hermione was surprised by this revelation, and smiled.  
  
“Me too,” she said. “Isn't it the best over the holidays? So many people coming and going...”  
  
“So much delicious food!” he agreed, grinning.  
  
The song ended, and Hermione suddenly felt a bit shy.  
  
“Perhaps I can steal another dance later,” said Beck. “I'm technically on the clock tonight, so... back to work. For now.”  
  
He kissed her hand with an exaggerated flourish and left, retrieving his camera. Hermione marveled at how small the wizarding world seemed to be.  
  
Hermione saw Tracey Davis trying to get her attention, and veered off in that direction. She was standing with Greg Hancock and a group of Ravenclaw Quidditch players who seemed to be monopolizing her fiance.  
  
“Hermione!” she said, grabbing her hand. “I've been trying to get your attention for the last two dances... who _was_ that you were just dancing with?”  
  
“He's a reporter,” said Hermione. “Who apparently knows the Weasleys. I met him over the summer, when he was trying to convince me to give an interview.”  
  
“Looks like he forgot all about the interview tonight,” said Tracey suggestively.  
  
Hermione just smiled and said, “At last, I get to officially meet Greg!”  
  
The tall, handsome former Quidditch player turned around at the sound of his name. Tracey touched his arm.  
  
“This is Hermione, my Potions partner,” she said. “And in case you missed it, tonight's honored noble war hero!”  
  
“Merlin, that was embarrassing,” Hermione acknowledged. “As if nobody else fought, sacrificed, or was in danger!”  
  
She stayed with Tracey for a while, until she finally managed to get Greg out on the dance floor for a slow song. Hermione noticed that Professor Snape had disappeared. She meandered out of the great hall, not sure if she wanted to accidentally find Harry and Ginny, but tired of watching half of her peers make lovey-eyes at one another as they danced.  
  
Casting a warming spell around herself, Hermione ventured outside. The gardens had been decorated with twinkling, luminescent dew droplets strewn over all the dormant shrubs and evergreens. Large lanterns with decorative metal work floated over the benches and at intervals along the paths. It seemed that most couples had not yet retreated from the ballroom – the garden looked empty. Hermione sat down on a bench and took in the scene. The benches had been enveloped in warming spells as well, and she could not even see her breath anymore, though the night was cold and there was still a layer of snow on the ground from earlier in the week.  
  
The sound of footsteps caused Hermione to look up. It was Ernie, looking just as surprised to see Hermione outside.  
  
“Hey, Hermione,” he said, sitting down heavily.  
  
“Hey... uh, where's Hannah?”  
  
“She's sick... had to go to the infirmary after dessert. Apparently the cake didn't agree with her.”  
  
“Oh, that's awful,” she said. “She must be so disappointed.”  
  
“She was,” said Ernie. “And now I've got no date. Might just go check on her in a bit, and go to bed.”  
  
Hermione sighed, “Harry's disappeared, and I think I know who he's with... not I that had expected him to dance with me anyway – he truly hates it.”  
  
“I'll dance with you, Hermione... you know, just as friends.”  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically.  
  
“You don't think Hannah would mind?” While Hannah was aware that Hermione was not interested in her boyfriend, it may strike a nerve if she heard he had been dancing with the girl he used to fancy before they got together, while she was stuck in the infirmary all night.  
  
Ernie stood up. “Come on, just one dance. I promise Hannah won't try to hex you for it later.”  
  
Hermione obliged, and they went back inside. As they danced, Hermione saw that Harry and Ginny had returned, and were attempting not to step on one another's feet off in the corner, laughing. Bartram sat nursing a pink cocktail, staring at Snape and McGonagall, who were now partners. Hagrid was still with the same buxom blonde witch from the magazine. She was giggling as he dipped her to the floor.  
  
A flash went off in Hermione's eyes. She turned her attention to the short, round witch who had just taken her photo, and scowled. Hermione took a step away from Ernie, lest anyone else got a picture of them together. Poor Hannah would not be able to help resenting her if this was published.  
  
“I said no photos!” she hissed angrily at the woman, whose eyes grew round. Suddenly, Willie Beck appeared out of nowhere.  
  
“It's all right, Hermione,” said Beck. “She's my assistant, I'll make sure it disappears.”  
  
He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“May I claim another dance?”  
  
The flash went off again and Beck spun around. Hermione glared at the now-grinning witch as Beck told her off.  
  
“Bloody hell, Tara! Do you see how she's looking at you? Put that thing away before someone gets hurt! If you take one more photograph of Miss Granger this evening I shall have you fired!”  
  
Tara gave him an exasperated look and slunk away. Hermione noticed that Ernie had snuck off during the exchange, probably to go see Hannah.  
  
“Thanks,” she said to Beck. “But aren't you supposed to be _trying_ to get a photograph of me?”  
  
He shrugged.“I know how much it bothers you. Besides, we have about fifty of Severus Snape dancing, and hundreds of others with all of the rich old people here tonight, and that will satisfy my editor.”  
  
He took her waist, and led her into another dance.  
  
“So... when did you leave the prophet?” asked Hermione.  
  
“Actually, just shortly after we met,” he said. “I was offered this photographer position, and it's my true passion. I was just a junior assistant at _The Prophet_ , and most of the reporters there were right barmy old bats.”  
  
It was then that a realization came to Hermione. “You worked with Rita Skeeter.”  
  
He laughed, and then grimaced. “Yes, unfortunately.”  
  
“Right.” Heat rose in Hermione's face. “I'm sorry, I'm suddenly in no mood for dancing. Nice try, by the way,” she said, breaking away from him and rushing off through the crowd.  
  
Returning to the gardens in a huff, Hermione was now in the company of at lease one couple, who were canoodling in the gazebo. She marched to the corner of the gardens farthest away from them and let out a sound of annoyance. Sitting down, she started shooting flashes of red sparks at the stone wall beside her, watching them hit, scatter, and quickly fade.  
  
“Stupid... charming... manipulative... bastard! Ugh!”  
  
“I assume you are talking about Potter?” came a familiar voice.  
  
“Professor Snape,” she acknowledged him. “Uh, no, actually. I'm not... as I've told you, and everybody else on multiple occasions, Harry and I are just friends.”  
  
“Then why,” He sat down beside her. “...are you blasting the stonework with hexes I can only assume you'd rather aim at someone's head?”  
  
“Do you want to know how Rita Skeeter managed to hitch a ride in my hair into Hogwarts this summer?”  
  
He stared off into the garden. “You already know that she used her beetle form to attach herself to your rather … voluminous mane. It proved to be a perfect hiding spot.”  
  
Hermione sighed. “Yes, and the only reason she managed to get into the room with me in the first place was because she was brought there by Willie Beck. The very same Beck who has been trying to persuade me that he's not interested in an interview anymore, and then... and then getting me to talk to him anyway by asking me to dance. I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner!”  
  
Professor Snape was silent for a moment, and she rather thought he was trying to suppress a smirk.  
  
“You do know that before I released Skeeter, I removed her memories of that day.”  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
“You can stop wishing to set a curse on Willie Beck,” said Snape, “I saw it in her mind – he didn't plant Skeeter on you. Apparently, she was upset that he had been given the assignment to cover the ceremony and interview you, and she was determined to have the story for herself. He is unaware that he brought her to you.”  
  
“Oh. Well that's... that's just... perfect. Brilliant. Now I'm just an ungrateful jerk – he was truly being kind earlier, keeping the cameras off of me.”  
  
Snape stood.  
  
“Perhaps,” he said. “But I do not think it simply was out of – kindness – that he asked you for a dance... or that he has come out here looking for you now.”  
  
Hermione glanced down the path, and saw that Beck had just entered the garden, looking around conspicuously. She looked back at Professor Snape and pulled out her wand. She waved it at the evergreen beside her, which stretched out its branches enough that she was hidden from all but his view. She tucked her feet underneath her, and waited. Footfalls approached.  
  
“Oh! Didn't see you there, sir,” said Beck upon seeing Snape. “By chance, have you seen Hermione Granger out here this evening?”  
  
“Miss Granger?”  
  
 _No!_ Hermione thought. _Say no!_  
  
There was a pause before Snape said, “I believe she went inside in search of a drink.”  
  
“Ah... right. Strange I didn't pass her on the way out here...”  
  
Snape said nothing more, and Beck finally thanked him and left. Hermione relaxed and stood up.  
  
“Thanks. Merlin, I'm so embarrassed – I deserted him in the middle of a dance!”  
  
Snape stood staring down the path away from her.  
  
“Go inside, Hermione, have another drink, and enjoy your evening. Your charming young suitor awaits.”  
  
There was a bit of playfulness in his command, but his mood seemed anything but lighthearted. She longed to ask him what was on his mind, but what right did she have to know his thoughts?  
  
“I might rather stay out here,” she said. “If I thought it would keep me from making an even greater fool of myself.”  
  
She moved to walk past him, but stopped, and they observed one another silently in the moonlight, Hermione unwilling to leave and break whatever spell had allowed them a rare moment alone for such an informal conversation. She shivered, her warming spell starting to wear off.  
  
“I suppose I'll have to go apologize,” she said at last, hugging herself for warmth. “Aren't you coming back inside?”  
  
Snape regarded her with impenetrable eyes.  
  
“No.”  
  
Hermione smiled mischievously.  
  
“Are you... hiding?” she whispered, as another couple searched the garden for a secluded spot. “You _are_ hiding, I'll bet from all the wealthy witches in there who are dying to dance with you!”  
  
His eyebrows shot up.  
  
“My, what an impertinent observation,” he said. “Impertinent, yet... astute.”  
  
He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Never mind my reasons for... hiding. Why don't you return to the festivities now? You're only young once, you shouldn't miss all the fun, Hermione.”  
  
She shivered again, but could not move once she realized just how close he was now standing to her. If she took one small step forward...  
  
“Miss Granger, I refuse to tell you whether you missed any questions on the exam,” he said loudly and pointedly, as some students crossed the path near them. “You will find out your grades at the same time as everyone else!”  
  
“All right, I'm going!” she hissed, grinning.  
  
Hermione found Beck and apologized for disappearing. He, too, was apologetic once he realized that Skeeter had used him to try to force an interview out of Hermione. They danced once more, and spoke a few more times throughout the night. Hermione had another drink and danced with a few members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, in between people-watching with Tracey Davis.  
  
As the guests began to leave and students went to their dormitories, Hermione saw Beck hurry over to her.  
  
“Hey, so I don't know what you're plans are for the holidays... but I've got an open invitation to the Weasleys', and I haven't see Bill in ages. Maybe I'll see you there?”  
  
Hermione blushed and nodded. “Uh, yeah... maybe... I'll be there at some point, I'm sure.”  
  
He grinned. “Well, then, I'll look forward to seeing you again soon. Goodbye, Hermione.”  
  
As Beck left, Harry and Ginny appeared once again, looking for Hermione.  
  
“And just where did you two get off to all evening?” Hermione asked in a disapproving tone, though she hardly cared what they had been doing.  
  
“We were off playing lawn games in the courtyard just now,” said Harry innocently.  
  
Hermione laughed. “Oh, is that what we're calling it these days?”  
  
“No, Hermione,” said Ginny. “There really were games set up in the courtyard! Didn't you know? They covered it with this gorgeous crystallized material and had these tiny, super-warm fires going in all the planters.”  
  
“Uh, no, actually... I never made it to the courtyard,” she replied. Ginny smiled knowingly.  
  
“We'll talk later,” she whispered in Hermione's ear. Luna and Neville joined them, and they all sat talking and laughing together until the hall was empty and McGonagall shooed them out to bed.  
  
“Sorry for, uh, ditching you tonight,” said Harry, as they walked to the dormitory.  
  
Hermione patted his arm. “It's all right, Harry. I still had a lovely time.”  
  
He peered at her suspiciously.  
  
“Really, Harry, I'm not upset. I'm glad you and Ginny are friends again, or... whatever...”  
  
Harry sighed. “Yeah, whatever it is... but at least Dean's history.”  
  
Hermione shot a glance back at Ginny, who was walking with Ron and Padma behind them.  
  
“They broke up?” she mouthed at Harry.  
  
“She didn't want to talk about why,” said Harry. “But... yes. They're done.”  
  
Hermione smiled at Harry, and bit back a warning about getting back with Ginny too soon. She could wait until tomorrow to say something, instead of ruining his evening.


	16. Like a Ton of Bricks

Severus woke up the morning after the ball with a groan. Momentarily puzzled by the pounding in his head, he quickly recalled the rounds of firewhiskey that had been consumed by the faculty members and magazine staff during and after cleaning up the castle from the ball. Hagrid drank all of them under the table, naturally.  
  
“I'm to old for this,” mumbled Severus, sitting up groggily.  
  
“Mmmm, I know what you mean,” came a voice from the bed beside him, and Severus then remembered what had happened after the firewhiskey.  
  
Mara Singleton was curled up under the bedsheets and warm winter blankets with him. He stood and hastily threw his robe on to ward off the biting chill of an early Hogwarts winter morning. Mara sat up, swaddling herself in the bedding.  
  
“Bollocks, it's cold in here!” she said, shivering.  
  
Severus frowned, wondering why Truno had not yet returned to rekindle the dying fire. Severus pointed his wand at the coals and remedied the matter.  
  
“I don't suppose you have another robe lying around?” she asked hopefully. Wordlessly, Severus flicked his wand at the dresser, and one came flying out, landing neatly on her lap.  
  
“Thanks,” she said, and was soon wrapped in in and standing beside Severus, warming herself by the now blazing fire.  
  
“Last night was fun,” she said. “You're full of surprises, Severus Snape. I'm guessing you're not going to want me to waltz out the front doors this morning, especially not in this getup. What's the plan, since Apparation is out of the question?”  
  
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and said, “Truno.”  
  
A few seconds passed, during which a bewildered expression appeared on Mara's face. Finally, Truno appeared. He said nothing, looking at Severus for instruction.  
  
“I need you to take Ms. Singleton home,” he said. “She will tell you where to go.”  
  
“Oh... right now, then?” she said. “Hold on, let me get my things...” She looked around the room. “Uh, where is my gown?”  
  
Severus nodded toward the bed, where the pale yellow silk dress was hanging off the foot of the bed frame.  
  
“Er – right. Just need a quick visit to the loo...” She scurried past him, as Truno watched the scene.  
  
She emerged some minutes later, hair smoothed down, smiling. She walked over to Severus and ran a hand over his shoulder.  
  
“I suppose this is goodbye,” she said.  
  
Mara placed a hand behind his neck and pulled him into a kiss. “Goodbye, Professor Snape.”  
  
He blinked down at her through nearly closed eyes.  
  
“It was... a pleasure,” he said. She smiled and went to get her dress and clutch from the bed.  
  
“I know we agreed this was a one time... thing, but...” she said.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her questioningly as she continued, “I'd be up for a few more... times. No strings, no expectations. I'm not interested in a relationship – ah, no offense.”  
  
A small noise from Truno prompted Severus to shoot him a stern look before answering.  
  
“I'll... consider it,” he said, causing a light to dance in her eyes.  
  
Truno stomped over to stand beside Mara.  
  
“Miss be ready now,” he stated, and then looked up at her. “Going where, Miss?”  
  
She met Severus' eyes with a look that could only be called sultry as she said, “432 Milliners Road.”  
  
With a deafening crack that ruined the morning's quiet atmosphere, they were gone. Truno disapproved of his guest, Severus noted. Truno soon returned with a large cup of coffee, a drinking glass, and a pitcher of water. Severus settled down with the current issue of his Potion Master's magazine, hydrating and caffeinating himself well before appearing at breakfast and seeing the students off for the holidays.  
  
He walked down to meet the train with Margaret White, who thankfully remained ignorant of Severus and Mara's doings the night before. Severus had been the last one to bed, and Mara had stayed behind the rest of her own staff. If White suspected anything, she would have mentioned it already. They stood watching the hubbub as students loaded their suitcases and boarded the train.  
  
“I hope you will consider my offer, Severus,” she said. “I hate to think you will not leave the castle at all over the holidays.”  
  
“I have volunteered to stay with the students who remain here over break,” he said, “As you know.”  
  
“Yes, and I will be here for Christmas feast,” she said. “Do come for just a few hours to Mother's on Christmas Eve. I hardly think the students will notice if you leave for a while after dinner. You can trade off with Minerva or Poppy, so that somebody is in the castle at all times, in case of an emergency. Don't be such a martyr!”  
  
He smirked. “Don't be such a nag, and perhaps I'll consider it.”  
  
“Watch your mouth, young man!” she exclaimed, “or I won't save you a piece of my famous holiday pie.”  
  
“A threat most cruel,” he said. “I apologize. Do make sure there is something good left – I shall be there by eight at the latest.”  
  
“Brilliant,” she said, smiling. “I look forward to it! Ah, it looks like Miss Granger has already forgiven Harry Potter for slighting her at the ball. Young love... it does baffle the mind at times.”  
  
Hermione and Potter were walking slowly down to the platform, deep in conversation.  
  
“Potter and Granger are merely friends,” said Severus quickly, without thinking. White chuckled and gave him a skeptical look.  
  
“Are they, now? I suppose you've been listening more closely to the students' gossip than I have... but then, all of my younger students are jealous of any girl who gets attention from Potter. They're all in love with the 'Chosen One'.”  
  
“Indeed,” said Severus. Hermione and Harry walked by, now silent. Hermione caught his eye and smiled.  
  
“Happy Christmas, Professor Snape, Professor White," she said.  
  
“Happy Christmas to you too, dear,” said White. “Excuse me, while I catch Miss Larker, she just dropped her mittens back there...”  
  
They watched her jog off to pick up the accessories in question.  
  
“Miss Granger, may I have a word with you?” asked Severus suddenly.  
  
“Sure. Harry, I'll meet you on the train, okay?”  
  
Harry shot Severus a suspicious look, but nodded. Hermione turned back around and looked up at him expectantly, her mind clear and exuding a pleasant warm glow. She must be in the holiday spirit already.  
  
“Professor McGonagall spoke with me about your plans for next term,” he said. “However, I cannot allow you to complete two apprenticeships at the same time.”  
  
She nodded. “I know. Professor McGonagall told me the same thing – she said you were not likely to give anyone permission to do that, and that we would discuss my options as soon as I pass the N.E.W.T.s.”  
  
“Indeed, and since there is no question that you will pass all of your N.E.W.T.s, over the break you might consider that if you are so inclined you may complete both an apprenticeship and an independent project in a subject of your choice. To do so, you must submit a proposal as soon as possible – ideally, immediately upon returning to school for second term, before you begin your apprenticeship. You will have to catch up to those students who have already submitted proposals for second term projects, since you originally indicated you wanted an apprenticeship instead. Once your proposal has been approved, you will be assigned an advising professor.”  
  
Hermione considered for a moment before she said, “I will have a proposal for you by the time I return.”  
  
“I look forward to hearing it,” he said, and sensed her mood lift yet higher. His own thoughts lifted as well, with the realization that she was a little happier after their conversation. “Enjoy your break, Miss Granger.”  
  
“I will. I hope you do as well.”  
  
She turned and hurried back to the train, which was preparing to leave. As Severus watched her go he was overcome by a sudden aching emptiness, and it dawned on him that this was only a fraction of what he would feel when she left forever at the end of the school year. Severus was completely immobilized, standing there on the platform watching the train leave the station. Suddenly, his reasons for feeling so ambivalent about the idea of seeing Mara Singleton again made sense. A casual affair with Singleton, which was exactly what he had thought he wanted, was no more appealing than Bartram's misguided infatuation with him. He longed for intimacy of the mind and spirit, something neither of his would-be lovers could offer. Mara had been quite clear – she was not interested in anything but a physical relationship, and Bartram was too neurotic and self-centered to offer him more.  
  
Perhaps he would not long for such a relationship, if he did not already know full well that his _mind's equal_ existed in the form of Hermione Granger. He had been trying to view her only as a young witch whom he found promising and praise-worthy, above the rest, but he could no longer deny that his feelings for her stemmed from a much deeper understanding and regard for her mind than a professor should ever have. Once again in his life, he longed for something that could not, that would not, be. It was out of the question - pathetic - to entertain such a feeling.  
  
Profound sadness and a sense of defeat enveloped Severus, still standing like a statue on the platform. His life was a divine comedy, it would seem, as whatever gods there might be in the great beyond continually mocked his life's desire: to be known truly, loved deeply, and safe to trust just one other soul on the godforsaken earth before he left it. The universe mocked him with Hermione Granger, whom he could not pursue. She was a bright young witch with her life ahead of her and various charming young wizards interested in her: wizards her own age, wizards who had not spent nearly two decades attempting to climb out of the grim, desolate abyss they had thrown themselves in out of anger and bitterness in their youth.  
  
Forgetting her youth for a moment, and imagining she was older, he still could not bring himself to wish she felt anything for him in return. Removing all other obstacles, there was still the fact that he did not know whether he was even capable of the kind relationship that she deserved, and for which he longed.  
  
Severus was shaken out of his unpleasant reverie by Margaret White.  
  
“Severus?”  
  
She was carrying a small collection of forgotten items, which she had apparently been picking up from all around the platform while Severus was reacquainted with the knowledge that what he wanted most in life would remain forever just out of reach.  
  
“Do they always leave so many of their things behind so carelessly?” she asked.  
  
“I believe Filch has three entire closets devoted such lost items,” Severus said. “Few students even think to look for them when they return.”  
  
“What _will_ we do with these irresponsible youths?” White said with exaggerated exasperation, shuffling the objects in her arms. “As Mother would say, 'They would lose their heads if they weren't attached!' ”  
  
Severus assisted her by taking a scarf, several mismatched socks, a brand new leather-bound journal, a sweater, and a fuzzy pink hat from her hands.  
  
“Perhaps we should hold a lesson on how to properly close and secure a suitcase,” he muttered. “You may be able to fit that into one of _your_ lessons, as it is a task that does not require a wand.”  
  
“You know,” she pondered, “I just might...”  
  
They walked back to the castle, enjoying a warmer day than usual for the season as the sun finally cut through the clouds. Filch was waiting for them, searching through the pile greedily for Merlin only knew what.  
  
“One month,” Severus reminded him. It was the amount of time the students had to claim lost items before they were considered Filch's possessions, arranged carefully in a landscape of chaos that only he understood in his junk rooms, where he and Mrs. Norris spent a great deal of time.  
  
The castle seemed cold and empty, the usual holiday decorations looking tired and lonesome now that all traces of the winter ball had been removed. Margaret White, Flitwick, Bartram, Shacklebolt, and Vector were leaving the next day to be with family for the holidays. Minerva and Poppy would be there with Severus, as usual, and of course Hagrid, whose only family was Grawp. Most of the faculty would return for the feast on Christmas Day, some staying until the New Year, some returning home for another week.  
  
The castle was more of a home now to Severus than ever before. After spending years teaching there, working tirelessly to protect its students, then defending it in battle, Severus felt that he was a part of the castle as much as the stones that made up its walls. The castle understood him, perhaps like nobody else ever would. It seemed to sink under the weight of Severus' mood over the break, its halls becoming darker, torches burning dimmer, windows keeping out what light from the often grey skies tried to make it inside.  
  
On Christmas Eve, Severus spent the morning in Hogsmeade, going early to find a few small gifts for the school staff before meeting Minerva for lunch at the Hogs Head with Aberforth.  
  
“So, Poppy has agreed to return to the castle shortly after you get to the Whites',” said Minerva. “Which means that I will see you there, Severus. Is this the first time you've left the castle for a holiday?”  
  
“It has been some time since I had a welcome reason to,” said Severus. “I expect this year will be infinitely more pleasant than the last time.”  
  
“I must say that I am eager to meet her mother. From what I've heard she is an outspoken, witty old witch. From how Margaret speaks of her, she will take an immediate liking to you, Severus.”  
  
Severus raised a brow. “To me?”  
  
“Yes, she is going to want to know your life story, in detail, from the source, and she will absolutely find you fascinating.”  
  
“I consider myself warned.”  
  
Minerva laughed. “Don't look so worried! I'm sure it will be a good time. You're adept at evading prying questions with such finesse, she won't even mind that you're secretive about your past.”  
  
The door to the tavern opened and Hagrid stomped in, his enormous feline in tow. Aberforth waved him over, apparently having no qualms with the animal being inside his bar. Nettie, as it was called, jumped right up on the counter in greeting, and Aberforth ran a hand over her head and back as she purred.  
  
“Oh, my!” said Minerva, as the giant cat came toward her and Severus. It butted Severus in the head and turned to Minerva, staring at her for a moment before jumping to the floor and rubbing against her legs.  
  
“It appears to like you,” said Severus, amused by the expression of astonishment on her face.  
  
“Severus, I'm fairly certain that this... creature... is not legal.”  
  
Severus leaned over to watch Nettie settle down into a ball at Minerva's feet, purring loudly. “Most certainly not,” he said, “but as you can see it's quite good at winning us magical folk over.”  
  
A smile pulled at Minerva's mouth as the cat pawed at her leg playfully until she gave in and petted its head.  
  
They went back to the castle. Severus went to his rooms under the pretense of reading, but soon fell asleep in an afternoon nap. He woke up dreaming of Advanced Potions class, or rather, of brewing with Hermione in class. He was unsure whether he had been a student or professor in the dream, but they had worked as with one mind, without needing to talk, communicating through thoughts as easily as words. As soon as she had touched his arm, he woke, feeling warm.  
  
The evening came and after dinner Severus prepared for his visit to the White household. He put on some of his nicer robes and checked the time. Just before eight o'clock, he threw on his thick winter cloak and gloves and walked down to the school gate. He wished that Dumbledore had passed on the secret to Apparating from inside the castle, but he had seen fit to take it to the grave. Perhaps some of the portraits could help him figure it out.  
  
The party at the Whites' was dwindling by the time he arrived. Poppy left, leaving Severus, Minerva, Margaret, and her mother's friend Edwarda sitting around the fire.  
  
Margaret had greeted Severus with a large plate piled high with food.  
  
“I do hope you haven't eaten much yet,” she said, thrusting it into his hands. “There's still dessert after that.”  
  
He thanked her and set about devouring his meal – he had skipped dinner except for a roll and some pumpkin juice earlier. Mrs. White was talking animatedly to her older friend, both ladies white-haired, small of frame, and wearing simple robes in Christmas colors – Mrs. White in deep wine, and Edwarda in ivy green.  
  
Severus sat in a black winged back chair, taking in the conversation. Minerva and Margaret, or 'Minnie and Marge' as Mrs. White called them, were discussing the most humorous exam answers they had received so far.  
  
By continually shoveling food into his mouth, including two desserts, Severus managed to avoid being questioned until the end of the evening. At last, though, it was his turn.  
  
“So, Severus Snape,” said Mrs. White. “First, I want you to know that you must call me 'Miranda' or at the very least, 'Ms. Miri' as Margaret's friends always have.”  
  
Severus bowed his head in acceptance.  
  
“Second, I must ask you a few questions,” she continued. “You are quite the mysterious hero, aren't you?”  
  
Severus smiled slightly and said, “It is not my intention to be... mysterious. I'm simply living in the moment. My past holds many challenges that I prefer to put to rest, now they have been overcome. To that end, I have not given any interviews, or god forbid, written a memoir.”  
  
“Ah!” she cackled. “You _are_ going to be a lot of fun! Suppose I told you I was writing a memoir? Do you already think less of me?”  
  
“Not at all,” he said smoothly, slipping into the character he'd often played among his wealthier Slytherin peers over the years, one that was just a bit more willing to converse. “For your story is far more interesting than mine, as well as helpful in getting the general magical population to overcome their prejudice toward Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards. Your memoir, ma'am, will do good for our world. Mine, however, would only serve to open up old wounds and make it impossible for me to show my face in public.”  
  
“I see... hmm... you have had a difficult life, that much is well known. How are you holding up, now that the war is over?”  
  
“As well as can be expected,” Severus said.  
  
“Do you plan to marry? Have children?”  
  
Severus choked on his drink in surprise.  
  
“Mother!” exclaimed Margaret. “Leave poor Severus alone! He's going to think you're trying to fix us up!”  
  
“Nonsense, I know that you have no intention of doing any of that... but I want to know if Severus is as much like your father as he seems. Bernard waited until he was just a bit older than Severus, I'd say, before he settled down. He wanted to change the world first. Severus has already helped save it. I rather think he is ready to put that behind him and find a nice young witch to brighten his days.”  
  
Severus had no reply for Miranda White, for she was not wrong about him, yet he would give nothing away.  
  
Finally, he said, “Your father was a visionary, and a martyr for his beliefs. How did he come to hold such a modern view of Muggle-born and mixed ancestry bloodlines in a time when nobody questioned the superiority of a pure magical ancestry?”  
  
“If you will all humor an old lady for a few minutes,” Miranda said to the group, “I will answer Severus and tell a story most of you here already know well.”  
  
“Of course, Miri,” said Edwarda.  
  
“Well, Severus,” said Miranda, settling into a more comfortable position on the couch. “It all began with my mother-in-law, Barda White, back sometime in the mid-1880's. She fell in love with a young Muggle man. To this day, nobody but Barda and her lover knows who he was, for she knew that he would likely be killed if her family was able to find him, and she would have been disowned, completely cut off from her family's protection and money. She could not risk that, since she became pregnant and had my father in 1887. She was but fourteen years old. It wasn't until after the death of her parents that she told anyone that her child's father was a Muggle. Bernard didn't know he was a half-blood until he came of age – the same year that his parents died within months of one another, from old age.”  
  
She shifted in her seat again, leaning closer to Severus.  
  
“While he was devastated by the news that he was not a pureblooded wizard, it was nothing to the surprise he felt when Barda told him that she was his mother. Their parents had told Bernard, and everyone else, that he was theirs, and raised him as a sibling with his mother. You see, when she found out that she was pregnant, Barda had convinced her parents that Bernard was the result of a old family friend taking her innocence, which unfortunately, happened to be true, except for the conception of the child. Not wanting this child to be raised by such a man, they made it look as though Barda's mother was with child, and hid Barda away for those months. She had been educated at home through tutors anyway, so such a ploy was not difficult to pull off.”  
  
Miranda paused.  
  
“It seems that Barda's attacker was confounded into believing that he could fight dragons with his bare hands, and went off to Bulgaria in search of adventures, never to been seen again. The man was vile, and left behind no family or legacy other than that of greed and lies – he had gotten rich on a healing potion that turned out to have latent, disturbing mental side effects. He was, however, friendly, garrulous, and capable of charming his way into the trust of families like Barda's.”  
  
Severus placed his goblet on the coffee table, as Margaret appeared with a steaming mug of butterbeer for him.  
  
“That is quite a twisted family saga,” he remarked.  
  
“Oh, I'm not finished!” said Miranda. “As you can imagine, eventually the knowledge that he was a half-blood wizard, and that his own mother had loved a Muggle enough to protect him so carefully for so many years, refusing to name the man even to Bernard... it changed his views.  
  
“With his parents gone so early in his life, he and Barda were now young, wealthy, and determined to show the magical world that it was wrong about the dangers of Muggle blood. Barda became more and more eccentric as the years passed, but she always supported his work. Bernard secretly sought out and tested the magical abilities of witches and wizards with mixed ancestry. He was particularly impressed with the abilities of Muggle-born folk, as they were often more successful in learning to focus their magic at a young age, and had far more logical minds than anyone with pure lineage. He wrote volumes on his theories, many of which were seized and burned when he was murdered by the blood purists... but I read them all, and it is all up here.” She tapped her head.  
  
“My husband was a brilliant wizard, who made discoveries about the benefits of intermarriage with Muggles far ahead of his time. He lived out his philosophy by marrying me, a Muggle-born witch, in 1927. I was 25 years old, working as a book shop assistant, the only job I could get in a time when Muggle-borns were barely tolerated and only allowed the lowest of positions with no chance of promotion. I had hoped to become an editor, but after a few years out of school in the magical world, I knew it would never happen. The prejudice at that time was too great.”  
  
She smiled at Margaret and said, “So I married and had Margaret a few years later – and I regret nothing, for I've lived a full life, even though it has been filled with much grief and hardship. I may rest easy, knowing that the lie of blood purity is finally breathing its last dying breaths, and in my lifetime! I am simply thrilled to meet another man, who like my Bernard, has escaped the shackles of mindless adherence to prejudice and hatred, and who has sacrificed dearly to think for himself and to do what is right.”  
  
Miranda studied him, as Severus sipped his warm beverage.  
  
“Now, tell me, would you be interested in reading my memoir?”  
  
“Indeed,” answered Severus. “I'm sympathetic to your family's story. My own mother married a Muggle, and lived as one for most of her life.”  
  
Miranda's eyes lit up at that revelation. Severus quickly distracted her from asking more about his family with new line of questioning.  
  
“Do you plan to continue his work? At the very least, the progress he made should be recorded and referenced by those currently working to understand the intricacies of the mingling of magical and Muggle blood. There is much to be learned, and much that was known, as you have said, has been lost at the hands of blood purists over the last decades.”  
  
“No!” She chuckled. “I'm too old and far too simple of mind to continue his work, at least in a scientific way. I do plan to write down as much of it as I can remember, and I hope to write more on the subject of mixed ancestry and magical ability by way of personal accounts. I want to tell the stories of those who have lived in mixed families and clawed their way up in the ranks of magical society over the years.”  
  
Severus lifted his mug toward her. “I'll drink to that,” he said.  
  
“Perhaps one day,” said Miranda smiling, “you will be willing to tell me your story, Severus Snape, even if you refuse to have it written down for anyone else to see.”  
  
He met the determination in her eyes calmly.  
  
“With all due respect, ma'am... I'm afraid you shall remain disappointed.”


	17. The Ingenue

Hermione spent the train ride to London with Harry, Luna, and Neville, though Harry kept sneaking off to see Ginny under the pretense of needing the loo. If she didn't know better, she would have thought he had been hit with the Womble-Belly Hex recently.  
  
On the third occasion that he escaped, Luna watched him leave with a peculiar expression on her face.  
  
“You would think he would just ask her to join us,” she said.  
  
“I think we'd rather not witness, uh... whatever's going on.” Hermione replied.  
  
She had talked to Harry that morning, trying to convince him that perhaps he and Ginny should wait a while before they rekindled their relationship. Harry had always been particularly prone to leaping before he looked. Hermione supposed that he didn't much care where he landed, so long as he got to hold Ginny's hand for a while on the way down. Perhaps she was being too critical of her friends – after all, she had been the one hoping they would realize their foolishness and get back together for months, until Dean had come back into the picture. They _were_ good together, and Harry was so happy that Hermione could hardly bear to bring him down.  
  
They Apparated to Grimmauld Place after saying their goodbyes at the station.  
  
“Home, sweet home,” said Harry darkly, as they entered to find everything in the house covered in dust. It had not been cleaned in months, since Kreacher was at Hogwarts now.  
  
“Shall we go out for dinner?” asked Hermione. “Or at least to get groceries?”  
  
They had a modest meal at a nearby diner, and stopped by a small market for breakfast provisions on the way home.  
  
“Shall we get anything else now?” asked Hermione, choosing a carton of milk. “Or just come back tomorrow?”  
  
“Well...” said Harry strangely. “I was wondering...”  
  
“Harry? What is it?”  
  
He sighed and said as quickly as possible, “Ginny invited me to The Burrow.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“I mean... she invited _us_ , the both of us," Harry said.   
  
“I see.”  
  
“We could go whenever... and stay for as long as you want. Mrs. Weasley would have us there the whole time, if she could.”  
  
“I don't know, Harry... you should go, of course, but I don't know if I could stay there.”  
  
He tossed the loaf of bread in his hands back and forth. “Padma isn't staying. I suppose she'll visit at some point, but I think she'll be on a family trip until Christmas Day, and... you don't even have to speak to Ron if you don't want to...”  
  
“Oh, okay! Yes, let's stay at The Burrow, Harry. At least until Padma shows up, then we'll... re-evaluate.”  
  
Hermione could not help remembering Willie Beck's promise to visit the Weasleys' in hopes of seeing her again. She was not sure how she felt about his interest, but he was certainly fun to be around. She and Harry spent the next day tidying up Grimmauld Place and searching for the Marauder's Map. Harry finally found it under his bed in a packed box. They would go to The Burrow the next day. Hermione was surprisingly unbothered by the idea of spending time in Ron's home again. It was also the home of Ginny, and until this year, like a home to Harry as well.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were overjoyed to see them and began overfeeding them immediately. Harry and Ginny seemed to have picked up their relationship where they left off before the war. Hermione felt good about the decision to stay until the moment she looked at the family clock and realized that a name was now missing. Arthur, Molly, Ginny, Ron, and Charlie were there, and the rest of the family would join within a day or two. Bill and Fleur would come for Christmas dinner. George and Percy were expected as soon as they could get away from work.  
  
Hermione was glad she had brought several books for pleasure reading. Harry and Ginny were not great company at the moment, and she was not keen on answering all of the many questions Molly Weasley had for her about her future and her parents.  
  
“So, your parents are traveling in the states?” she had asked more than once, quite puzzled that they would not be home with Hermione, hosting family and friends over the holiday. “They wanted you to go to a Muggle school? After all these years as a witch? Instead of _Hogwarts_?”  
  
Molly was also puzzled by Hermione's desire to study Potions, saying, “I did always think that you would join Harry and Ron at the Ministry, but I suppose you must do what you truly love. Potions, is it, then? Well, I never would have thought... but you will succeed at whatever you put your mind to, dear.”  
  
When she was not fretting over Hermione's life choices being suddenly different than expected, Molly was warm and cheery, basking in the holiday spirit and the company of her family.  
  
George arrived the day after, and Hermione was happy to see that he was not so very depressed as he had been over the summer. Though dampened, his jovial nature was still alive and surfaced from time to time. He began taking the piss out of Harry and Ginny immediately.  
  
“Oi, Harry! I didn't expect to see _you_ here this year... watch it, your hand is nearly within a foot of my sister, you cad!”  
  
Unexpectedly, Bill and Fleur arrived on Christmas Eve, and shuffling in the door behind them was none other than Willie Beck.  
  
“Will Beck!” exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. “I can't believe it's you! Come in, make yourself at home!”  
  
Later that evening, Beck sat down next to Hermione on the sofa while the Weasleys hurried off to their respective rooms to wrap gifts at the last minute. It was a family tradition. She stared at him until it became clear that he waiting for her to speak first.  
  
“So... you and Bill were friends at school? Isn't he quite a bit older than you?” Hermione asked.  
  
“We were both on the Quidditch team,” he said. “Bill is three years older than me.”  
  
So he had been in Gryffindor, too, Hermione realized.  
  
“It's lucky that you go by different nicknames,” she said. “I don't think I could see you as a 'Bill'.”  
  
“Well, that would be a strange nickname for me to have, as my name isn't William.”  
  
She laughed. “Oh, all right, then... what is it?”  
  
“It's just Will.”  
  
“Just Will. So... your nickname... is _longer_ than your actual name?” she asked.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He made a point to look around the room before stretching conspicuously and putting one arm behind her on the back of the sofa. “Ahhh... I think that's better. Is it better for you, too?”  
  
Hermione blushed. “Sure.”  
  
“So tell me, Hermione, what are we to do, surrounded by so many sappy lovebirds in this house? Charlie's the only sane one – even Percy's bringing someone this year. Merlin, when Ickle Ronniekins' girl gets here it will be positively unbearable.”  
  
“Honestly, I may have to leave at that point,” Hermione said flatly.  
  
“She says with... do I detect a hint of anger? Not jealousy, I hope," he said.  
  
“Oh no,” she scoffed, “Not... anymore.”  
  
“Ah... I see. Everyone thinks you've always fancied Potter, but they were wrong.”  
  
“Ron and I were sort of... together. Before I was cursed in the battle.”  
  
Beck shifted his arm so that it brushed her shoulder. “Sort of?”  
  
“We never officially _told_ anyone, but... we spent a lot of time together last year.” She fell silent.  
  
“Erm – do you want to – talk about it?”  
  
She sighed. “There isn't much to say. I got cursed, he fell for Padma. Really, I've gotten over it, but it does make seeing him... _them_... awkward for all of us.”  
  
She turned to look into Beck's eyes.  
  
“I think she's still afraid of me,” she whispered with a sly smile. “I've been known to cast a vicious revenge hex.”  
  
Beck smiled and kissed her as if it were nothing.  
  
“Does that help you forget?” he whispered back.  
  
Hermione blushed again. “It might.”  
  
She let her eyes linger on his mouth for a moment, thinking that if anyone could help her forget her stupid crush on a professor, it would be the attractive, flirtatious young man in front of her. Suddenly, he stood and grabbed her hands.  
  
“I seem to have some last minute wrapping to do as well,” he said. “Do you think we could finish it in your room? You do... have your own room here, correct?”  
  
“Ah, yes. Though it's more like a closet than a whole _room_.”  
  
They snuck upstairs with the help of a few silencing charms on the creaky floors. The best snogging Hermione had ever experienced ensued, ending only when they heard Mrs. Weasley calling them down for drinks and the usual Christmas Eve stories.  
  
“Where's the Ginny?”  
  
Hermione laughed, and frowned at Beck. “Why do you call her 'the' Ginny?” she asked.  
  
“It wasn't him that started that,” said Bill. “It was Charlie, who said it was because Ginny was more feral monster-creature than wee person as a child, and it stuck until she was about eight or so. After that, she learned to send things smacking us in the face from across the room, so we were forced to stop... in her presence.”  
  
Bill fell silent, as Ginny walked into the room.  
  
“Ginny, you seem to be missing an appendage...” said George. “Ah, there it is!”

He nodded at Harry as he appeared beside her.  
  
“All right, all right, that's enough...” said Molly. “Here are your drinks.”  
  
She waved her wand and large mugs of eggnog gently floated toward them, hanging in the air until they claimed them.  
  
“Now,” she said, taking a seat. “I believe some of us have news to share. Bill?”  
  
“Oh, I have to go first, naturally...” He put an arm around Fleur, and she smiled up at him.  
  
“Mum, Dad, we're so happy to tell you... that you're going to be grandparents this coming year.”  
  
“Oh!” Molly gasped. “I was hoping... and it's true! Oh, I'm so happy I could burst! Our first grandchild! Come here...”  
  
She jumped up to hug them, followed in turn by Arthur, who seemed to be speechless in his excitement until he reached Bill.  
  
“Congratulations, Son,” he said, teary-eyed, before hugging Fleur.  
  
After hugs and congratulations were offered all around, Molly quieted them again.  
  
“Okay! Now... Percy.”  
  
“Well, that's a bit hard to follow,” he said. “But I've gotten a promotion at the Ministry. You're now looking at the Senior Assistant to the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. I'll be working on completing my transportation certification this year.”  
  
More congratulations were sent round, and of course a bear hug from Molly.  
  
“Oh, now it's my turn!” said George, clapping his hands until he had their attention.  
  
“You have news, too?” asked Molly in surprise.  
  
“Well, no, actually I'm stealing Ron's... he's going to be my new business partner! After graduation, of course, Mother.”  
  
“But George, that's not my news!” said Ron.  
  
“It's not?”  
  
“No. This is.”  
  
Ron held up a small, glittering object. A ring. George let out a sigh.  
  
“Oh, Ron, you've done it all wrong – there's supposed to be a girl _wearing_ the ring!”  
  
“Hush, George!” said Molly. “Ron, I think it's sweet that you've told us – and of course she will say yes.”  
  
Molly gave him a warm hug and examined the ring excitedly.  
  
The Weasleys seemed happy for their youngest son and brother. Hermione was stunned and hoped she hid it better than Harry.  
  
“I think you two will be very happy,” said Arthur. “We will await her answer as eagerly as you, Ron.”  
  
“So, what's the plan of action, then?” asked George, who moments ago had been giving Hermione a sympathetic look. He had suspected that something had been going on between Ron and Hermione before the war.  
  
“Want to take a walk?” asked Beck, whispering in her ear. Harry noticed and squinted at them.  
  
“Yes, let's,” said Hermione. They snuck out as the family reveled in the happy news together and offered advice as to how Ron should pop the question.  
  
Walking around the yard, Beck stopped her suddenly.  
  
“Do you realize that you've got me completely off my rocker? I usually spend Christmas Eve in Diagon Alley with my mates and sleep in the next morning until my mother's owl wakes me up by pecking at my head. Then, I go visit the family, just Mum and my sister Rebecca. I do love them – I should go visit, but I can't bear the thought of spending a day away from you when you'll be back at Hogwarts so soon. What _have_ you done to make me so crazy?”  
  
Hermione shrugged. “A potent combination of awkward flirtation and general feminine wiles, I suppose.”  
  
He laughed and pulled her close. “You have bewitched me, from the moment I saw you walk into the great hall the other night... possibly from the moment we met and you refused to speak to me.”  
  
Hermione laughed. “You _are_ crazy! Do you hear yourself?”  
  
“Yes!” he agreed enthusiastically. “I'm bloody barking, I know! Can I kiss you again?”  
  
Hermione obliged, giggling helplessly.  
  
“Do you like it when blokes sing to you? I can't sing... but I'll damn well try if –”  
  
“Shhh!” Hermione put a finger to his lips, and gave him a sly smile.  
  
“I know a secret way into the upstairs,” she whispered, pointing to the crooked roof over the back door. “My room is right there, it's that window just above it, in the corner.”  
  
Beck studied the house in amazement. “Are you sure? That doesn't seem right...”  
  
“Oh, come on, it's all held together by magic, it doesn't have to make sense. Trust me!”  
  
She took off toward the house and he followed. Climbing up into the room with much cursing on Beck's part as he kept stepping on his long coat, they fell in through the window in a heap at last. They lay there laughing for a moment before Hermione had the presence of mind to cover the room floor to ceiling in silencing spells.  
  
“Planning to do something... noisy in here?” he asked suggestively.  
  
“Just a precaution,” she said. “Unless you'd like to explain to Molly Weasley why you're up here?”  
  
“Don't worry, she's asleep in her great purple chair by now,” he said, tipping her chin up to get to her mouth.  
  
Neither one of them spoke again for quite some time, until he swept her off her feet and dropped her on the bed.  
  
“S'more comfortable here...” he murmured. Several minutes passed before Hermione grew bold enough to do what she had been thinking about all evening. She pulled her shirt off quickly over her head and watched with anticipation as Beck did the same. Moments later, his fingers found their way to her back, searching.  
  
“Uh, wait...” she said.  
  
He froze.  
  
“I'm not sure I...”  
  
“Hermione, this isn't your first – ”  
  
“Oh! No...uh, no, it's not my first time!”  
  
Hermione felt herself blushing. Nobody else knew that she and Ron had found a few moments during their time searching for horcruxes to relieve years of pent-up sexual tension. For all Harry knew, the kiss during the battle had been their first.  
  
“It's just that I think I may have left my wand downstairs, and if we're going to... I need to perform a few spells first. You know... for protection?”  
  
He chuckled. “Don't worry, Hermione, I'm a little more prepared than your typical Hogwarts Quidditch player. I know the spells, and I believe my wand is over there in my coat pocket.”  
  
Formalities taken care of, he lay down beside her on the bed.  
  
“Will,” she said, before they resumed anything. “I should tell you something...”  
  
“Oh, Merlin... you're not really a bloke, are you? I knew you were too good to be true.”  
  
“Stop it, I'm serious. Will, as you've said many times tonight, you're crazy about me.”  
  
“Mmmm, yes...”  
  
“I've got – a lot going on right now. Besides, you can't even visit me at school.”  
  
He let out a breath and replied, “I'm not asking for anything more, if that's what you want... are you sure you're not a bloke?” He kissed her. “Let's just forget about everything else for a while and see where that takes us.”  
  
They woke up the next morning to an incessant tapping. It was Will's mum's owl, having found him rather early this year, it would seem.  
  
“Wake up!” Hermione hissed in his ear, trying to wake him from a sound slumber.  
  
“Will!”  
  
“Huh, what?” He jerked awake.  
  
“Weren't you supposed to go home last night?”  
  
“Eh, sod it,” he said. “Nobody was waiting up for me.”  
  
“Yes,” Hermione said impatiently, “but you can't be _here_. In this room. With me!”  
  
He rolled over and blinked at her. “The last time I checked, we were both adults. Why shouldn't we have a little fun on our holiday? I'll bet you Merlin's magical bollocks everyone else in this house was... well, except for Ickle Ronniekins, since his lovely lass isn't here yet.”  
  
“Stop!” she laughed, as he cracked a smile. “You have to leave... look! Your owl is here.”  
  
He groaned. “Fine, I'm going. Are you happy? A fine excuse for a witch you are, you haven't tried to cuddle at all since we shagged! I'm quite hurt, honestly!”  
  
He put on his clothes and his coat.  
  
“Shall I come by again tonight?” he asked. “I'll tell the Weasleys I took off to go see my mates after you went to bed. Don't worry, it's the kind of thing I would do, they'll never suspect that we...”  
  
He winked at her and smiled suggestively, and she burst out laughing.  
  
“See you later, then,” she managed to say, and he climbed out the window and Disapparated.  
  
Hermione relaxed and dozed for a while longer before the rest of the household woke up. There came a knock at the door.  
  
“Hermione!” Ginny called. “Breakfast!”  
  
“Be down in a minute!” Hermione said.  
  
“Hermione? Are you awake?”  
  
Hermione released the silencing spells.  
  
“Coming!” she called, dressing quickly and fixing her hair.  
  
She found Ginny waiting for her in the hall.  
  
“Hey. Are you okay?” Ginny asked. “I noticed you disappeared after Ron's little announcement.”  
  
“Yeah, I'm all right,” said Hermione. “I had a nice talk with Will outside, that's all.”  
  
“Oooh, with 'Will', is it? What did you 'talk' about?”  
  
“Oh, nothing important. What were you and Harry doing out near the shed the other night?”  
  
Ginny smiled. “Looking for the shovel to bury the body, what else? Point taken... let's eat.”  
  
With Will visiting her every night that week, Hermione managed to get through the day of Padma's arrival and Ron's proposal without once snapping out a sarcastic remark in response to Padma's insipid chatter. She was sufficiently distracted from the sappy love-fest that was The Burrow that week, but also alarmingly distracted from working on her project proposal.  
  
So she was forced to tell Will that the fourth night was the last. She had met him at Grimmauld Place under the pretense of retrieving more study materials. He took it rather well, jokingly telling her that he was honored to have been the first heart she would break.  
  
“But seriously,” he finally said, “I'm not going to give up this easily. Tell me we will see each other again, when you've _finally_ finished your seventh year.”  
  
“Perhaps,” said Hermione, smiling. “Now get out of here before I fail to complete this proposal, have a mental breakdown, and never graduate at all!”  
  
As the flurry of Christmas settled down and Hermione spent the first evening without speaking to Will, she began to feel a bit depressed.  
  
While it had been a wonderful whirlwind affair, she was not sure she could have a serious relationship with Will Beck. He was a ball of energy, funny, irreverent, and flirtatious... and Hermione would be continually exhausted if she tried to keep up with him and his social life. Just hearing about it for a few days had made her grateful that she was not expected to be a part of it, for whatever time he hadn't spent with her had been with his best mates (of which there seemed to be about twenty, from all the names he mentioned). He had tried to convince her to join him for New Years, for at least one or two of the parties he planned to visit that night. Hermione had declined, thankful that she could truthfully use her family as an excuse.  
  
There was no future for her with Will Beck, as charming as she found him. Her stubborn heart wanted what it wanted, and as soon as Beck was out of the picture she became painfully aware of how much she missed being at school, where she saw Snape every day. She longed to be able to speak with him openly again, mind at ease and their thoughts mingling once more as they had when she was cursed. Never in all her years at Hogwarts had Hermione wanted a holiday to pass so quickly.  
  
Before long, she was meeting her parents in London for New Years. They had gotten a nice room at a hotel and they took Hermione out for dinner before the three of them returned to the hotel to have their own little belated Christmas and exchange gifts. There was even a small tree decorated and set by the window, twinkling with strings of lights.  
  
Hermione and her parents spent New Year's Eve with her father's family – Hermione's grandmother, grandfather, uncle, and her cousins Julia and Calvin, who were a year older and a year younger than her respectively.  
  
Hermione attempted to clear up her mum's misconceptions about herself and Harry, and even mentioned that she had met someone else over the holiday, though it would never be anything serious. Her mother had eyed her with suspicion.  
  
“So, you were never interested in Harry Potter? Are you quite certain you like _men_ , or I suppose I should say 'wizards'? You have also been quite close to that Ginny girl for a few years...”  
  
“Merlin! Mother! Yes, I am interested in men, of the wizard variety, preferably!”  
  
“Well, I'm worried about you Hermione. You always seem to be alone, and I'm glad that you're so strong and independent... but everyone gets lonely, especially when all their friends have started pairing off and getting serious. Tell me you are all right, and I will leave you alone, love.”  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
“I'm fine, Mum, really. School's just a bit stressful at the moment. I have all the friends I need, and I'm not sitting around mourning my single status. In a couple days, I will be so busy with my classes, apprenticeship, and Potions project, that I won't have time to care about the lack of romance in my life.”  
  
Hermione accepted her mother's hug. “Don't worry about me, Mum, I'll be fine.”  
  
“I know, dear, but a mother can't help thinking about her daughter's happiness, especially when she's a world away. I suppose I would be a bit upset if you were with someone right now, because it would surely mean I'd see even less of you.”  
  
Hermione and Harry spent the last night at Grimmauld Place together, doing laundry and packing for the trip back to Hogwarts the next morning.  
  
“Well, this has been an eventful holiday,” Hermione said, breaking the silence as they ate some leftover soup and rolls for dinner.  
  
“I can't believe Ron,” said Harry. “He's the last person I would tell you was ready to be married, and he's given up on being an Auror to work in the joke shop? I dunno... is he losing it, Hermione, or am I just bitter?”  
  
“Harry, I think it's time for you to truly forgive Ron. As much as I find her dull and bit shallow, Padma is quite sweet as well, and she's a good match for Ron. I would never have lasted as his girlfriend, if things had happened differently after the war. You must see that? We fought constantly.”  
  
Harry grunted and said, “I suppose.”  
  
Hermione smiled. “Besides, it's going to be hard to keep ignoring Ron if you are going to be with Ginny again.”  
  
Harry sighed heavily. “I know, and I was hoping to make up with Ron over the holiday... but then, he had to go and get himself engaged and spend every waking second making dopey eyes at his girlfriend.”  
  
“Yes, well... perhaps there will be other opportunities for you to see him at school, away from Padma. I don't know, maybe during Quidditch practice?”  
  
Harry shook his head. “Only if you can keep Padma from coming to watch. She's always there to drop him off, and there to walk back to the castle when he's done.”  
  
“Really?” asked Hermione. “But some of your practices are so early in the morning...”  
  
“Apparently, she's a morning person,” said Harry.   
  
A few days later, the two of them sat eating breakfast with Ginny and Neville. Hermione was reading the paper, or attempting to, as Harry and Ginny talked Quidditch strategies loudly beside her. Suddenly, Hermione gasped.  
  
“Look at this!” She pointed to the headline.  
  
“ 'Narcissa Malfoy Missing' – it just happened this week. It says she went missing from her home one evening after her daily visit from her personal Healer, and that not even the house-elves seem to have seen anything suspicious. Poor Draco...”  
  
Hermione had only seen Draco Malfoy once since they had gotten back to Hogwarts, sitting in the courtyard staring off into the distance. “I wonder what happened,” she said.  
  
“Maybe she's run off into hiding with some Death Eater friends,” suggested Harry.  
  
“I doubt that... from her trial and testimony under truth serum, we knew that she wanted out of that life ages ago... and she only stayed to try to protect her son there at the end.”  
  
Harry shrugged. “Didn't she go bonkers after Malfoy's dad got put away? She's probably just forgotten to take her potions and wandered off.”  
  
Ginny smacked Harry on the arm and said, “Stop being such an arse!”  
  
“Ow! You know I'm only joking. I hope she's found soon, and that _he_ doesn't go mad as well, if he hasn't already.”  
  
Hermione let herself smile at them. It seemed that they were doing well as a couple again. She could only hope that they had learned enough about themselves while apart that they could handle whatever difficulties life gave them in the future. Harry had become much better at talking about feelings this year, and he was no longer thrown off by the horcrux in his head. It just might work.  
  
She knew that Harry and Ginny both believed in fated love... after all, Harry had already been the subject of a prophecy. Why shouldn't he believe that if he was meant to kill a Dark wizard, he might also be meant to be with Ginny Weasley? Not all prophecies were heard and collected, or even spoken by a seer at all. Sometimes a revelation came to a Seer who chose not to share it, for according to Firenze, most wizards who had the sight were far more capable of recognizing and controlling their visions than Professor Trelawney. Unless a prophecy seemed of particular importance, a Seer might not bother to seek out the poor sod involved, for if it was fate, it would play out properly in the end either way.  
  
Despite Harry being 'the chosen one', Hermione was not sold on the idea of prophecy and fate. She had to believe there was choice involved in both, and that there were many possible outcomes even in prophesied events.  
  
Hermione's eyes focused on a dark shape walking past her, pulling her out of her thoughts. Professor Snape had come to breakfast at last. He had been missing the past few mornings, and Hermione had only seen him outside of classes once, when she brought him her project proposal.  
  
She had walked through the door to his office with some anxiety over her ability to successfully occlude her feelings again. He was at his desk, writing, when she arrived.  
  
“Welcome back, Hermione,” he had said, setting his quill aside. “I take it you have brought your proposal.”  
  
“Yes,” she said, wishing she was sitting down, as her knees felt weak when he finally looked at her. His eyes bored into hers, and she imagined he was trying to sense her thoughts. She walked over and placed the proposal in front of him. He quickly scanned the first page.  
  
“Interesting approach,” he said. “I see no reason that you would be denied this project... except for one thing.”  
  
Hermione held her breath as he continued, “Professor Slughorn's expertise lies in traditional Potions making, so he would be ill-prepared, and likely unwilling, to advise you in such an undertaking. He makes a point to avoid the more volatile art of spell-brewed potions, especially those that might benefit from the use of wandless magic.”  
  
“Professor,” she said, after a pause, “I was hoping that _you_ might have the time and... inclination to advise my project. I know Professor Slughorn is very busy, and greatly enjoys filling his time out of class with, uh... social engagements.”  
  
He stared her down with such a piercing gaze, that she immediately regretted the suggestion.  
  
“Very well,” he said at last. “There is no other viable option, and I am intrigued by your proposal. I shall advise your project.”  
  
Relief and elation flooded Hermione's mind that she could hardly keep it from him. She stood up, grinning.  
  
“Thank you, Professor!”  
  
He stood, too, and walked around the desk. “Come, let me show you where you may set up your independent work station, so that you may begin preparations.”  
  
He led her down to the dungeons, past the usual Potions classrooms and into the advanced classroom.  
  
“Follow me,” he said, walking behind his desk in the corner. He pressed his hand against a small round painting of an owl in a gold frame, and turned it a quarter-turn clockwise. The wall behind the desk disappeared, revealing a narrow, dark hall.  
  
“This is one entrance to the Potion Masters' work rooms. Horace uses these two.” He gestured to the doorways on either side of them as they walked through the stone corridor lit dimly by a few sconces that burst into life at their approach.  
  
“These two are empty. You may choose one,” he said, as they passed two more doors that were left open to reveal modest, spare work spaces with a long table in the middle and shelves lining the walls.  
  
“Around this corner are the lavatories, a closet with basic potions stores, finished potions, and some tools.” They walked around another corner. “These are the rooms I use.”  
  
The two doors at the end of this hall were marked with a thin silver 'S'. After a moment of silence, he nodded at an adjoining corridor.  
  
“That leads to the corridor outside of the Slytherin common room if you walk straight, and to an outside door if you turn left. Should anything catastrophic happen while brewing, you will _immediately_ seal the room by pressing your hand to the red caution symbol just outside the doorway and evacuate yourself out of the castle. Understood?”  
  
They went back to the empty rooms, and Hermione picked the one with the most shelves as her workroom. Severus inscribed an 'H' on the door as she poked about in the odds and ends left there by previous Potions students and professors. Finally turning to look at him, she smiled broadly.  
  
“This is fantastic! My first workroom, all to myself.”  
  
He smirked. “You are easily impressed. It is hardly more than a broom closet.”  
  
She walked up to where he stood in the doorway and said, “Perhaps, but I've got nothing to compare it to, so I don't know what I'm missing.”  
  
Her words seemed to strike a nerve in him – she felt his unease acutely.  
  
“It will not be long before you move on to a place more befitting your... abilities. You will soon find you want more than this dusty, poorly-designed room.”  
  
She sensed that he was talking about more than the tiny workroom in which they stood, but could not put a finger why. Allowing her mind to relax, she sought his.  
  
“Careful, Hermione,” he intoned, retreating just as she started to get a hold on his mood, which was a strange combination of melancholy laced with anticipation. “Or I may revoke my offer of assistance.”  
  
She met his fully guarded eyes, and apologized. “I'm... sorry...”  
  
He did not look away. “I hardly think it needs to be said, that if I am to help you with this project, you must endeavor to keep your mind to yourself. Your project is on Potions, after all, not Legilimency.”  
  
Hermione laughed, breaking up the tension.  
  
“Can you imagine if it was? You would truly be the only person who could help me, and we'd probably both go to Azkaban once it was published!”  
  
He regarded her seriously. “Indeed. Let us go now, and work out the rest of your schedule... Miss Granger.”


	18. Good Intentions and an Unexpected Turn of Events

Severus was finding it difficult to keep an eye on Draco, for it seemed that the boy rarely left the dormitory. He had missed classes, and was now doing poorly in all of his subjects. Draco was an intelligent boy – he would have been excelling were it not for recent events.  
  
After waiting a few days, Severus attempted to talk to Draco again. The boy gave him the silent treatment, looking fairly murderous as Severus inquired about the days leading up to his return to Hogwarts and his mother's disappearance.  
  
Severus was fairly certain that Draco knew why his mother had disappeared, and if Severus knew Narcissa at all, she had roped Draco into a plan to get his father out of Azkaban. Never mind that his sentence had been relatively light, considering his close involvement with the Dark Lord during both wars. Narcissa was not able to function on her own, and Lucius was her life partner, for better or for worse. They might be spineless, cold people, but they did love each other and above all else, their son.  
  
His suspicions were confirmed when he called Draco to his office to discuss his poor marks and spotty attendance.  
  
“Don't worry about me, Professor. It's all going according to plan.”  
  
Severus detected a note of triumph in Draco's voice, and yet if he and Narcissa were planning to get Lucius out of prison, they could not have any plan with even a small chance of success. There were not enough strong, smart followers of the Dark Lord left out in the world to help them, whatever they were plotting. They would surely be caught and given longer sentences this time.  
  
“Draco, please tell me you are not planning to do anything that might land you – or your mother – back in Azkaban. I do not believe Narcissa would survive another stint, and you should be studying, not rotting in a prison cell!”  
  
Hermione was back, and Severus quickly found himself miserably on edge, a feeling that he had not known for some time. He found himself unable to keep his usual calm in her presence, and was thankful that he was no longer teaching her in Advanced Potions and Defense.  
  
She seemed happier than she had been before the holiday break, especially once he approved her proposal and agreed to advise her through the ambitious Potions project she had planned. Her mind was no longer a cold, dark wall to him. She allowed him to feel some of her emotions, and he found it increasingly difficult not to get pulled in, revealing his own feelings to her.  
  
She wanted to experiment with wandless magic, in the use of potions that required significant spell-work. The types of potions in question were often finicky and dangerous, but highly important to modern healing and restorative magical practice. The specific potions Hermione would be experimenting with were thought to have originated as potions made with wandless magic, before the use of wands was common. They were the base of many modern healing potions.  
  
After his sudden revelation about Hermione on the train platform before Christmas, Severus found that she seemed to have suddenly matured in his mind. Perhaps it was only that he had refused to see her that way before. It had been at the winter ball when he was first shocked into realizing that she was no longer anything like the young know-it-all, desperate for attention, that he remembered. He had noticed her entrance with Potter at the ball immediately – her demure yet commanding figure gathering the stares of many as she found her seat. Hermione exuded understated beauty and grace when she bothered to spend time on her appearance. On normal days, out of her school robes, she dressed simply, with little apparent thought given to her attire: muted colors, simple tees, cardigans, and sensible footwear, yet her warm, intelligent eyes, delicate smile, and mass of untamable curls were accessories enough.  
  
When Singleton had demanded a dance with him that night at the ball, Severus had obliged with some trepidation. He knew he was a skillful partner and that if he accepted one dance he would spend half the night either dancing or fending off witches. His own mother had taught him to dance, forcing him to learn the steps at a young age, and for years he had danced with her to cheer her up, often after an argument with his father or when Tobias had run off in the aftermath to Merlin-only-knew-where for days on end. Severus had learned to feel only the music as he moved, desperately displacing whatever disturbing emotions he felt into the rise and fall of the song.  
  
He had noticed Hermione watching him that night. Then he had seen her run away from the reporter, Beck, with whom she had been dancing. After the song ended, Severus escaped himself. Finding her in the garden, he had not been able resist teasing her about Potter for a moment. Alone together in a veritable fairyland of twinkling magical lights and the warm glow of the lanterns, he had redeemed Beck to her. He had started to become aware that he might find it painfully difficult to watch her fall in love with an attractive, young, former-Gryffindor Quidditch player... but he had no personal dislike for the wizard in question, and she deserved to be happy, he had reasoned. He forced himself to believe it, and committed himself to that belief by sending her on her way, back to Beck.  
  
However, she did not leave before he had caught something in her mind that now gave him reason to hope – and fear. She had wanted to stay there in the garden, and not just to avoid Beck. She had pulled him into her mind briefly, and he had felt her desire to be closer to him. He was not sure what he had told himself to reason it away.

  
Then there had been the last time they were alone together, in the Potions workrooms hidden deep in the dungeons, her excitement infectious. It was in those moments that her attraction to him becoming undeniable, even to him, who very much wanted to deny it. She had reached out and grabbed hold of his mind, perilously close to getting at the root of his feelings. She was warm, calm, curious, and intense in her desire to know what he was holding back. Though she had apologized for her actions, some part of him hoped she would try it again - a part of him he was losing the will to ignore.  
  
Severus found his own mood improving greatly. He allowed himself time to work on his own Potions projects, eating breakfast early in his rooms and heading down to the Potions lab to clean and prepare his work rooms. It was not _only_ because Hermione would often be down in the tunnel as well that he wanted to spend his free time in the lab, he told himself.  
  
Hermione had also taken an apprenticeship as an Apothecary's assistant. Every morning after breakfast, she walked down to the school gates with the other apprentices and Apparated to London, returning after lunch each day for either Herbology or Arithmancy. Severus felt the loss of her presence tangibly – the castle always seemed brighter when she was there.  
  
The first evening she came to the lab while he was there working, Severus heard the soft chime alerting him to another person in the tunnel and fought the urge to immediately go find her. He listened through the open door as her light footsteps echoed through the corridor and the door to her workroom creaked open. After a few minutes, he put a stasis charm on his potion and ventured out of the room.  
  
“I see you've made progress with your organization system,” he said from the doorway behind her.  
  
She gave a shout, and turned around with her wand at the ready.  
  
“Merlin, why would you sneak up on me like that down here?!” she asked.  
  
“I apologize.” Severus smirked. “It was not my intention to startle you.”  
  
Hermione put her wand away and moved a few more books to their proper places on the shelves. A potion simmered in her smallest cauldron.  
  
“Your first baseline potion, I see,” Severus said. “A basic Blood Replenishing Potion... the Archamesis Method?”  
  
She nodded as Severus walked over and peered into the cauldron before skimming her notes.  
  
“Perfection thus far, Hermione... I expected no less.”  
  
Her mind lit up with satisfaction at his words. Experimentally, he moved to stand near her as she carefully arranged the ingredients and tools for her next brew. Her thoughts began to blur and swirl around in a sea of anticipation and... desire. Severus withdrew from her thoughts, reeling. It had been faint, and well-obscured by the rest of her thoughts, but it had been there. Something far less innocent than he might have expected to find. Hermione simply glanced at him, smiled faintly, and kept working.  
  
“Have I forgotten anything for the Binocha Method?” she asked. “I'm not as familiar with that one, but I think I've gotten it all from memory.”  
  
He scanned the table and dropped a hand to tap his finger on an empty spot next to the smallest knife.  
  
“You need a small strainer for the beetroot,” he said.  
  
“Oh, right... I can't seem to find one in the tool drawers or the supply closet.”  
  
She turned to look up at him, standing mere inches away. His mind warmed with the sensations flowing freely from hers.   
  
“Let's... have a look,” said Severus, slowly moving away and leading her out of the room.  
  
They searched the supply closets to no avail, at which point Severus remembered where the extras might be.  
  
“Follow me,” he said, brushing past her. He went to the larger of his workrooms and opened a drawer in the tall cabinet.  
  
“Here are a few,” he said, handing them to her. She took them, her fingertips gently sweeping over the back of his knuckles.  
  
“Thanks,” she said.  
  
“I suppose I'll get back to work now...”  
  
Her misty, distant thoughts were tinged with a trace of longing once more. She did not want to leave, and she was purposefully broadcasting it to him. He cleared his throat.  
  
“I'll be working here for a while longer should you need anything. Do not hesitate to come find me.”  
  
She smiled and said, “I'll remember that... just don't come back and scare me again while I'm working. I'd rather not visit the infirmary any more before I graduate.”  
  
He smirked at her. “I suppose I could stomp through the hall like a forest troll, so that you may hear me coming.”  
  
“Brilliant! Thanks!” she said, grinning, and left.  
  
The evenings he spent in his workroom were the highlights of his week, since often the work was punctuated by visits and questions from Hermione. While he was increasingly certain of her attraction to him, he could not bring himself to test the theory. It was impossible to act on what he felt was a mutual attraction until he was no longer supervising her project – he would not risk discrediting her work before it was published.  
Severus was slowly losing his determination to hide his feelings from her, but he allowed himself only the smallest of liberties: the slightest touch of her shoulder to let her know he was moving behind her at the work table, allowing her to sense just a fraction of what he felt for her when their thoughts were close enough, and showing up in her workroom at times before she even called for his help.  
  
He made sure that he was always in the room with her when she began testing potions using wandless magic. It was a dangerous undertaking, though if anyone was capable of doing it precisely and safely, it was Hermione. He often watched with bated breath as she carefully worked, no wand, no words, just the force of her mind and her magic bending the potion to her will. He knew well how much concentration the spells required, and occluded his mind completely so as not to distract her.  
  
The days crept on, and soon it was the end of January. The advanced students eagerly awaited the results of their N.E.W.T.s, which were due any day. Hermione was unfazed, possibly because she had no free time to worry about her scores. She had taken a short break from the Potions workroom, or at least from brewing. Unfortunately for Severus, many of the texts she was now studying were not allowed out of the library, and Hermione spent her evenings there.  
  
One evening at dinner though, she sent him a sharp sudden arrow of thought.  
  
 _I'm working in the tunnel tonight._  
  
He made sure to be there too, of course. She was poring over an enormous volume with tattered edges when he found her.  
  
“Look what I convinced Madam Pince to lend me for my project,” she said happily.  
  
Severus stood behind her and leaned down over her shoulder to read the page in front of her.  
  
“Your next potion?” he asked in surprise. It was a love potion.  
  
“Oh, no... I was just skimming the text. It's fascinating. This is a love potion like almost any other, but on the next page... _this_ one is also a blood potion! That seems incredibly ill-advised, I mean love potions all wear off rather quickly, and blood magic is lasting. I don't see how those two could work together without killing the subject or at the very least driving them mad!”  
  
“You would be correct in those assumptions,” said Severus.  
  
She flipped a few pages restlessly, then looked up at him.  
  
“Did you know Draco Malfoy has been in the library almost constantly lately? He's been there all week, every time I go.”  
  
Perhaps the boy had taken Severus' warnings to heart at last.  
  
“He still looks ill,” she said. “But he's started talking to me as if... well, as if we're friends or something. I suppose... he must be quite lonely. Does he ever talk to you?”  
  
“Not anymore,” Severus said slowly. “Perhaps you could assist me with Draco.”  
  
“Uh, okay... how?”  
  
“Let me know if Draco says or does anything... worrisome. He was angry and depressed before his mother disappeared... and I am afraid that he may yet hurt himself.”  
  
“Oh... of course. I'll tell you if he says anything, good or bad. Mostly he just asks me about my work.”  
  
The next day, Severus noticed that Draco did not come to breakfast. An hour later, one of the Slytherin prefects came to find Severus. Draco had disappeared the night before, never coming back to the dormitory. Enlisting the help of the other available faculty members, he prepared to search the castle and grounds, but had a feeling that Draco would not be found on school property.  
  
Just before lunch, Severus had finished searching the castle to no avail. The house-elves said they could not find the boy either. Then Potter came thundering down the stairs toward him.  
  
“Professor! Professor Snape!” He skidded to a stop in front of Severus, out of breath. “There's something wrong with Hermione.”  
  
Severus felt his heart quicken its pace.  
  
“Come with me!” he hissed, and pulled Potter into the nearest empty room. “What's happened?”  
  
“Hermione is not... normal. She under some kind of curse... maybe the Imperius... and I can't find her. She's supposed to be back from London by now, but Ginny says she doesn't think Hermione ever left... she saw her in the hall between morning classes.”  
  
“You will help me search for her, Potter,” said Severus. “But you must not alert anyone else to what's happened. If she is being held under the Imperius Curse, her attacker must be somewhere in the castle. I will tell the house-elves and the rest of the faculty to do the same.”  
  
“How should I tell you if I find her?”  
  
“Do you know how to use a corporeal Patronus to send a message?” Severus asked. Potter nodded. Severus performed the spell himself and sent a message to Minvera, asking her to inform the rest of the professors of the situation. He then called Truno and asked the house-elves to help once more by alerting him at once if they saw Hermione, but not to interact with her in any way.  
  
“You go upstairs, I'll go down,” he said to Potter.  
  
Severus scanned the halls on the way to the dungeons. If Malfoy was somehow using Hermione as part of his plan, Severus would personally make sure he spent the best years of his life in Azkaban. There was no sight of Hermione there, not even in the Potions tunnel or workrooms.  
  
Returning to the main floor, Severus checked the great hall and all the empty classrooms. He eventually made his way to his office on the seventh floor without seeing Potter or Hermione, until he turned the corner.  
  
There she was, standing by the gargoyle as if she had been patiently waiting for him the whole time.  
  
“Miss Granger?” he called. “Did you need to see me?”  
  
She smiled a bit wickedly. “Yes, Professor. May I speak to you alone? In your office?”  
  
As Severus approached he sensed that something was indeed very wrong with Hermione. Her mind was not her own. He carefully prodded a bit more, and was certain of one thing; the person standing before him was not Hermione Granger. Surreptitiously, he reached for his wand.  
  
“What is this about, Miss Granger?”  
  
“Harry Potter,” she said suddenly. “It's about Harry! You must bring him here, too... so we can talk.”  
  
Severus made his move and quickly disarmed her before grabbing her arms and wrenching them behind her back.  
  
“What are you doing?!” came Potter's voice, and he seemed to appear out of thin air. Distracted, Severus was suddenly knocked off of his feet. The Hermione imposter had let out an impressive burst of wandless magic.  
  
“STUPEFY!”  
  
Harry knocked her out, and Severus jumped to his feet, quickly binding her arms with magical bonds.  
  
“Into my office! _Quickly_ , Potter!” Severus levitated the imposter and they ascended into his office.  
  
“Truno!”  
  
The elf appeared at once, looking worried.  
  
“Bring me the vial of truth serum from my personal stores,” said Severus. He propped the imposter up in a chair, binding her to it carefully.  
  
Potter's eyes widened. “What's happening?”  
  
“Something we've both seen before, Potter.”  
  
Truno returned, and Severus promptly tipped the girl's head back to administer the potion. Then he pointed his wand at her, and woke her up. She stared stonily back at him.  
  
“Tell me who you are,” said Severus.  
  
She sneered. “You know who I am, Severus Snape.”  
  
“Why are you impersonating Hermione Granger?”  
  
“To get to you, of course. Well, you and Potter. You have conspired to kill my master and by extension, me. So you must die.”  
  
“Who was you master?” asked Severus.  
  
She laughed hysterically.  
  
“Lord Voldemort,” she whispered at last. “We are of the same mind, we are powerful, we have waited for this moment... for Potter! And now you, Snape! We know you are a traitor, and you shall suffer greatly!”  
  
Harry wore a horrified look, and had taken a few steps back, his wand trained on the imposter.  
  
“Easy, Potter,” intoned Severus. “We must find out what we're dealing with.”  
  
The imposter cackled again. “He told me _I_ was the most powerful, and he made me special... he taught me his ways. He used my mind. We are one, and you _should_ fear me! Yes, Potter, I shall kill you in the end.”  
  
“How did you get into Hogwarts?” Severus asked calmly.  
  
A sly smile curled on her lips. “You knew me as Draco Malfoy... you never knew it wasn't Draco Malfoy, did you, Snape?”  
  
Severus felt cold dread grip him. “Where is Draco Malfoy?”  
  
“In the hiding place... arrrgh!”  
  
Severus had grabbed the imposter's head and poured as much truth serum as he dared down her throat. She sat still at last, with a blank expression on her face now.  
  
“What is your name?”  
  
“I am Lord Voldemort's vessel. I have no name.”  
  
“Tell me how you planned to kill Harry Potter. Tell me everything you have done since Lord Voldemort was defeated in the Battle of Hogwarts.”  
  
There was a pause before she spoke.  
  
“I was held in a dark, cold room under a mansion. The old Lestrange manor. I was his secret. Nobody knew, not even you, Severus Snape. Not even Bellatrix... she thought I was many people over the years. She didn't know it was always me, the same one, his special secret. He used me because I was powerful... dangerous... a threat. We became of one mind, he used my mind to make his plans. He gave me problems, and I solved them.”  
  
“How long were you held by Lord Voldemort?” Severus asked.  
  
“From the beginning. I am his original creation, and now I have surpassed my creator.”  
  
“How did you escape?”  
  
Another long pause followed.  
  
“When my lord was destroyed by the _boy_ my mind's shackles were broken. A curse that could only be sustained while he lived... I remembered the way out. I escaped. Then I found out what you and Potter had done... and we vowed to kill you both.”  
  
“Where have you been brewing Polyjuice Potion?!” Severus asked, losing his patience once again.  
  
“I planned. I waited. I brewed enough to last until the end of term, then I went to the Malfoy house and brewed more.”  
  
“Where are Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger?”  
  
As the imposter fought to hold back the words, the longest pause yet turned into minutes. Severus repeated himself.  
  
“In Hermione Granger's room!” spat the imposter at last. “In Bellatrix Lestrange's extendable suitcase, under the bed.”  
  
“Are they injured or hurt in any way?”  
  
The imposter managed a slight sneer once more. “No. They sleep under the Draught of Living Death.”  
  
Severus' voice became deadly soft. “Where is the key?”  
  
The imposter jerked her head and looked toward the ceiling. “In... my. Pocket!”  
  
Severus retrieved it.  
  
“Truno,” he said, “I need you to go to Hermione's room and bring me back the suitcase that is under her bed.”  
  
With that, Severus stunned the imposter once more, as the serum would be wearing off soon, and he was not in the mood to hear more hysterical laughter and raving drivel.  
  
“But... who is it?” asked Harry. “Aren't you going to find out?”  
  
“The Polyjuice will be wearing off soon, Potter. If this is a wizard captured, broken in mind by Voldemort, and used as a repository for the Dark Lord's schemes and thoughts... the memory of who he was may no longer be anywhere in his mind.”  
  
“You think it's a wizard, not a witch?” Potter asked.  
  
Severus nodded. “Voldemort would not have seen a woman as powerful enough or worthy of knowing his thoughts.”  
  
Truno returned with the suitcase, and Severus quickly opened it to reveal the sleeping bodies of Narcissa, Draco, and Hermione propped up in three of the corners of a space as big as a small closet. He gently levitated them out and lay them on conjured-up stretchers. He sent a Patronus to Poppy, asking her to come to them with hospital gowns and blankets. The three of them were clothed in only their underclothes.  
  
The change in the imposter's appearance happened minutes later, and Severus recognized the face that emerged.  
  
“I know this wizard,” he said in disbelief.  
  
Harry shuffled his feet impatiently.  
  
“It is Vane Gottfried,” said Severus. “A wizard I thought dead years ago, during the Dark Lord's first reign. He was not a Death Eater – he was a prime target, one that Voldemort wanted brought in alive so that he could break him. He was a military strategist. His mind was broken long ago, and is now so ruined that we will never know exactly what happened to him.”  
  
Harry frowned.  
  
“If he's so crazy, how did he trick you into thinking he was Draco for so long?”  
  
Severus considered the question. “It would seem that though he has accepted his use as a vessel and tool of Voldemort's mind, he retains his skill and knowledge of magic, and was even able to employ Occlumency against me. This was not a new skill for Draco – he had been keeping me at a distance for quite some time.”  
  
Severus fell silent for another minute, thinking. “We do not yet know how long the imposter was here as Draco. It may only have been after the holidays, when he took Narcissa.”  
  
“I wonder why he took Draco's mum? Maybe she noticed that he wasn't Draco,” mused Harry. “Or maybe she noticed he was brewing buckets of Polyjuice Potion.”  
  
“Perhaps.”  
  
Poppy arrived with Minerva, both stunned and astonished to see Harry and Severus sitting together, watching over the imposter and the three victims.  
  
“They are all right, Poppy,” said Severus. “But I will need to brew the Wiggenweld Potion immediately, as it takes twenty-four hours to reach potency. Minerva, would you get a group of the highest level Aurors dispatched to the castle?”  
  
Minerva Flooed the Ministry, Poppy tended to the patients, and Severus turned to Harry.  
  
“Harry... take this note to Kingsley Shacklebolt and then make sure his class returns to their dormitories.”  
  
Harry gaped at him, but then quickly nodded and was off.  
  
Minutes later, Shacklebolt appeared and was filled in on the recent events by Severus. Soon after that, the Aurors arrived to take the prisoner away. Severus went straight to the dungeons to begin making the potion that would wake Narcissa, Draco, and Hermione from their death-like slumber. It was not a particularly complicated potion to make, but it was finicky to cool and coax into the salve that must be ingested in small amounts to properly revive the sleeping victims. If the salve was too potent, or the dosage too large, there was a chance that waking the sleepers would result in prolonged restlessness, sleeplessness, and unpleasant vivid daydreaming.  
  
As he completed the first step in the process and waited for the potion base to reduce by half, Severus felt his emotions finally catch up with the events that had transpired.  
  
He gripped the edge of the work table, leaned over it as if in pain, and was wracked with a flood of guilt, relief, and exhaustion. How long he stayed like that was a mystery. Once the potion was finished, hours later, he carefully thickened it partially and added the last few drops of muskara juice. The cauldron was covered and set aside to finish cooling until the next day, and then Severus wearily walked himself upstairs and went to bed.  
  
Severus slept late and woke only at Truno's insistence, who wanted to get on with tidying up the room. Severus paid a visit to the infirmary, though there was nothing he could do for the patients until that evening when the salve was ready. He was visited by the Minister of Magic and gave his account of the events as well as a warning that the imposter was to be considered highly dangerous, afraid of nothing, and out of his mind from years of torture and mind control.  
  
Finally, it was time to wake them. Severus brought the small jar that contained only the best quality salve from the cauldron – the small amount scooped from precisely the middle of the mixture. Dipping his thumb into the jar gently, he showed Poppy the amount to be used – about the size of a kidney bean. He went to Hermione's bedside and rubbed his thumb lightly over her lips, coating them in the salve. She immediately began to wake at the taste and smell, both of which were awful.  
  
“Lick your lips, Hermione, it is the antidote,” he instructed as she stirred. “You must ingest it as well.”  
  
She made a face of disgust, but did as he said, finally opening her eyes to look at him.  
  
“Draught of the Living Death?” she asked blearily. Severus handed the jar to Poppy, who was waiting to wake the others.  
  
“Yes,” he said, gazing into her eyes, which were gaining back their warmth and sharpness by the second. She smiled up at him.  
  
“I see you chose not to administer the antidote in the more traditional manner. I suppose that it would have been quite inappropriate if you had.”  
  
She was referring, of course, to the story of the first recorded instance of the Wiggenweld Potion's use – known to wizards and Muggles alike as the story of Sleeping Beauty.


	19. A Few New Friends

Hermione lay in the infirmary, wide awake. It seemed that one side effect of being woken from a death-like slumber was insomnia, even though she could tell her body needed rest. Madam Pomfrey had already given her the maximum dosage of Dreamless Sleep.  
  
She could hear Draco tossing and turning as well. Narcissa had been moved to St. Mungo's after the first day, to be attended by a mental health Healer as well as her family Healer. She had been having fits of anxiety, and it was obviously difficult for Draco to watch.  
  
Draco would be in the infirmary for a while. While the Draught of the Living Death worked sort of like a stasis spell for humans, prolonged magically-induced sleep would eventually take a toll on the body. Draco had been sleeping in Bellatrix Lestrange's suitcase since sometime just before the start of the school year. His energy levels would take a few weeks to return to normal, at the very least, and his recovery would be made more difficult by the fact that even though his body did not want to rest anymore, but his mind needed normal sleep patterns to refresh itself after months of static, unthinking, deep sleep.  
  
After Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey had woken the three of them up and told them who had captured them and why, they pieced together some more of the story. The imposter must have stalked Draco while brewing a supply of Polyjuice Potion over the summer, using the remnants of Voldemort's plans floating around in his head to form another plan to get to Harry inside the castle.  
  
As news reports came out after the war ended, he must have added Snape to his hit list as well. His unstable state of mind and a lack of plans to draw on in new situations must have been what kept him from making a move sooner, but eventually he had decided that he could use Hermione to get to both Harry and Severus. He would have used his Hermione-disguise to get out of the castle before anyone noticed, since she left every day for London and was often gone all evening while working in the tunnel.  
  
Thankfully, Harry was not so absorbed in his relationship with Ginny that he failed to notice Hermione's suddenly odd behavior. He had alerted Severus after his first interaction with the imposter. The imposter had only succeeded with his disguise as Draco because the boy had been living a solitary, angry, secretive life for the past few years anyway... and possibly because some of his former close friends were truly thick in the head, Hermione supposed.  
  
Hermione had been in the library the night the imposter made his move. It was late, almost curfew, and the only other person there with her had been Draco, or rather, Draco's imposter. He sat with her for a while, occasionally asking a question about her research.  
  
It was only after the fact that she reflected on something else he had repeatedly brought up: how she liked working with Professor Snape.  
  
“What's it like working with 'The Great Professor Snape'?” he had asked.  
  
She laughed at that descriptor. “Uh, it's good. He's an amazing Potions Master, and supportive of everything I've wanted to try so far.”  
  
He had stared at her with interest. “Does he talk about me? Does he tell you not to talk to me because I'm a bad student?”  
  
“What? No, why would he tell me anything like that? And, I thought you've always been a fairly good student. Your life choices haven't been so great thus far, but at least you're not a dimwit," Hermione said.  
  
He glanced at the clock, which was about to ring the hour. “It's curfew in a minute. Aren't you going to see me out?”  
  
Hermione sighed and flipped her book shut, hurriedly returning it under Madam Pince's watchful eye.  
  
“All right, time to go,” she said, and Draco bowed.  
  
“After you, Granger.”  
  
After that, she remembered nothing. He must have stunned her, put her in the suitcase he had stashed nearby, and hidden until he was able to disguise himself as Hermione and get into the head girl's rooms.  
  
The next thing she had been aware of was the feeling of Snape's thumb tracing a light circle over her mouth and the stomach-turning smell of the salve, which reminded her of rotting fish mingled with rosewater and strong garlic. As she forced herself to taste and swallow the small amount on her lips, Hermione's mind came quickly back into focus. Her first thought was that it was unfortunate that the smell of the awful salve had ruined the experience of waking up to Snape's touch.  
  
At the first look into his eyes, she was on the verge of tears. Whatever danger she had been through while asleep, she was going to be okay. She could sense that he was relieved and content in that moment, confident that the crisis was over. Hermione was cleared to leave the infirmary the next morning, though she did not tell Madam Pomfrey that she had barely slept an hour all night. She stopped by to see Draco, but he had fallen asleep at last.  
  
Thankfully, Harry had filled all her friends in on what had occurred so she was not bombarded with repeated questions. Hermione was proud of Harry for working with Professor Snape to save her, and talking about him without making any wisecracks about his personality or appearance. She had always thought that Harry and Ron (and many other of the boys her age) were overly critical of Professor Snape's looks and attire for the simple reason that they knew if he was not such a feared, harsh-tongued professor, half the girls at school would have been attracted to his tall, dark figure and strong features, as well as his commanding presence, intelligence, and sharp wit.  
  
The way Harry, Ron, and the Weasley twins had talked, if Hermione hadn't known better she would have imagined a sickly, ill-groomed professor who dressed like a Muggle vampire. In reality, Snape's long straight hair was thick, but fine in texture and prone to soaking up humidity in the Potions classroom throughout the school day until it began to hang in dense, damp, slightly wavy curtains, sticking to his face and neck. This year, when not stuck in the humid Potions room all day hanging his head over student's cauldrons, the greasiness Harry had so often pointed out was gone.  
  
Professor White found Hermione the next day, saying that she had heard about the imposter's plot and was happy to see her already back on her feet. She also had another purpose in stopping Hermione in the hall.  
  
“I hate to ask this now, after what's happened, but it was something I had been thinking of asking you for a while now. Would you be interested in speaking to my first year classes sometime? I would like them to hear your story, not just because you fought in the war, but because you are a Muggle-born witch who has accomplished great things. You are known as the most talented witch of your age, you're head girl, and you are destined to do great things in the field of Potions. Do you realize that you are a nearly unprecedented example of Muggle-born success? At least, you are one of the only examples that we know of, for up until now, successful magical folk hid their ancestry if it was not pure.”  
  
Hermione was speechless. “How... how do you know so much about me?”  
  
White chuckled. “Hermione, dear, we professors like to brag about our best students to one another. All of my colleagues have great things to say about you, especially Severus, who is perhaps the only one who has seen what you are truly capable of accomplishing.”  
  
Hermione nodded, a bit starstruck by Margaret White, whom she greatly admired. Margaret White thought she was destined to be great... because Professor Snape had told her so!  
  
“You are not only an admirable role model, you are a symbol of the end of blood prejudice. Not that the fight for true equality is over by far – and that's why I'm asking you to speak to my students. They need to learn at a young age, from the start of their magical education, that Muggle-born witches and wizards have just as much potential and strength as anyone else. So many Muggle-born children come here already feeling like they aren't deserving of this school. You can help change that.”  
  
“Okay... yes... I would love to,” said Hermione at last.  
  
“I'm so glad! Very good!” said White. “Now, one day before you speak to my class, you must come have tea with me, and we will have a nice chat. It will help you work through what you want to say, and I would like to get to know you better. If you don't mind talking to an old lady every now and then, I think we might become great friends.”  
  
Hermione blinked in surprise. “Of course! I would really like that,” she said. “You have no idea... I've been so upset this year, that I would never have you as a professor! I've read so much about you!” Hermione stopped herself from gushing, and blushed. “When would you like to meet?”  
  
A few days later, she knocked on the door to Professor White's rooms and was shown into a small sitting room with a few comfortable chairs and a bookshelf. After tea was served, White looked over Hermione's notes and helped her edit her presentation down to fit into her lesson plan.  
  
“Well, now that's all taken care of, tell me, Hermione, how is life?”  
  
Hermione was not sure where to start with that question, so she began with her apprenticeship and Potions project.  
  
“Severus has been spending a lot of time brewing again,” said White. “I think it is good for him, as he seems in the best spirits I've seen all year. Oh, I know he enjoyed teaching those advanced classes... but there must be something about the solitude of the Potions workroom that keeps him sane.”  
  
Without thinking, Hermione replied, “I imagine he doesn't get as much alone time as he needs now, since I'm forever interrupting him to ask questions, and he has to supervise so many of my brews... they're starting to get too risky to brew alone.”  
  
White set her cup down and eyed her thoughtfully. “Is that so?”  
  
Hermione felt that she had given more away than she meant to – had she sounded like a student hopelessly attracted to her professor just then? Was her tone too familiar when she talked about him? Panicking slightly, she back-peddled.  
  
“Yes, with the wandless magic involved, there's always the chance something could go horribly wrong. I'm not allowed to brew them without someone else there, just in case.”  
  
White smiled and said, “I'm sure Severus doesn't mind the interruptions. He is invested in your work, and takes his job as your advisor most seriously. He probably likes having someone else brewing down in the dungeons, as I hear Horace rarely brews anything outside of class these days.”  
  
Hermione found that she was looking forward to her presentation in Muggle Studies, and that she did indeed wish to befriend Margaret White, who had promised to have her to visit her childhood home and meet her mother, Miranda White, once school ended.  
  
Over the next weeks, Hermione visited Draco regularly in the infirmary, much to Harry and Ginny's surprise.  
  
“Harry, it's not hard to understand why I would want to visit him! We were both attacked by that insane wizard, and he can't leave the infirmary. I know what it's like to be stuck in a bed for months, remember?”  
  
“Yeah, but it's Malfoy... he's a sneaky little git, and he tried to kill Dumbledore.”  
  
“Harry, we hardly know what he's like now that the war is over and he isn't being forced to serve Voldemort – you know he never had much of a choice in the matter, don't you?”  
  
“There's always a choice not to join an evil wizard in taking over the world,” muttered Harry.  
  
Hermione sighed. “Sure, I suppose he had the option of running away the moment Voldemort returned, assuming he even knew what that meant for his family back then... but we were only fourteen when that happened, and where would he have gone that his parents would not have found him, especially with the help of the rest of their Death Eater friends?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “I would have done it anyway.”  
  
Hermione gave up trying to get Harry to see that it wasn't that simple. She went to see Draco by herself. He didn't have much to say to her, so they talked about the imposter the first time, and the next time they talked about all the things he had missed at Hogwarts that year, including the Quidditch matches, the Halloween Feast, and the Winter Ball.  
  
“I'm actually glad I wasn't forced to attend – sounds like a nightmare,” he said, as Hermione told him about the magazine's events and the lavish décor for the ball, along with the wealthy guests that had been present.  
  
He fell silent for a while. “I wasn't going to come back this year,” he said finally, “but that sodding barmy imposter made sure I'm stuck here anyway.”  
  
“What were you going to do instead?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Whatever came up,” said Draco. “Even after everything... my family still has some valuable connections. I would have left London, _that's_ for damn sure.”  
  
He did not speak to her again for a while, so Hermione left the book she had brought him from the library, said goodbye, and went to dinner. The next time she visited, she brought a chess set, and they found that an easy silence while concentrating on the game was preferable to talking about their lives. Soon it was Valentine's Day, which happened to fall on a Hogsmeade weekend. Thankfully, it seemed that with Snape as headmaster there would be no obnoxious, over-the-top decorations lining the corridors and taking over the great hall.  
  
The morning of the holiday, Hermione received a letter at breakfast. It was from Will.  
  
 _Dear Hermione,  
  
I just wanted to let you know that I have been thinking of you, and all the fun we had over Christmas holiday. I'm sure you're not much for Valentine's Day in the first place, but you should know that you still have an admirer in me. I hope you are excelling in every way possible, and also remembering to stop and have a bit of fun now and then. You deserve it.  
  
\- Will_  
  
“Oh, you've gotten a letter!” noticed Ginny. “Sloppy, illegible handwriting... so it must be a from a wizard... and I'm going to go ahead and take a guess at... Willie Beck? Or, should I say, _Will_?”  
  
Hermione folded the letter and put it away. “If you must know, yes.”  
  
“Oooo, is it a love letter?”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny's interest. “No, of course not, seeing as how we're not in love.”  
  
“Perhaps not yet...”  
  
They walked down to the village together with Harry a while later, and caught up to Ron and Padma on the way.  
  
“Hey, Ron,” said Harry.  
  
“Hey,” said Ron, and the two of them looked incredibly ill-at-ease as they tried to work out what to say next.  
  
“Ah... Padma's got a few errands, but I suppose we might see you for lunch?”  
  
“Yeah, sure...” said Harry. “Er – I think we're going to the Hog's Head, if you, uh... wanted to come.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Padma did not look excited about the prospect of eating Aberforth's fare, Hermione noticed.  
  
Harry, Ginny, and Hermione took their time getting to the village as Ron and Padma hurried off. They wandered about for a while before taking shelter from the winds that were picking up, blowing in more clouds that would surely bring additional snow to the landscape.  
  
“I think we should stop by the Three Broomsticks,” said Ginny suddenly.  
  
“Why?” asked Harry, who disliked the crowded atmosphere.  
  
She elbowed him.  
  
“Because I _want_ to,” she said. “I, uh, think I saw somebody I know go in just now. Do you mind, Hermione?”  
  
Hermione shook her head, and they hurried across the street. Stepping inside out of the cold, they searched the room, only Ginny knowing who they were looking for, until Hermione saw him. She spun around, glaring at Ginny.  
  
“You knew about this?!”  
  
Ginny grinned. “Perhaps. Will!”  
  
He turned around and waved at them, his face lighting up when he saw Hermione. He was sitting with another wizard and a witch, who appeared to be close to his age. They went to join them, squeezing into the benches at the table. Ginny pushed Hermione lightly toward the spot next to Will when she didn't immediately take it.  
  
“You look surprised to see me!” Will exclaimed, putting an arm around her. “It seems Ginny can keep a secret after all!”  
  
“I had no idea,” said Hermione, smiling lightly. “I can't believe you're here.”  
  
He grinned. “I haven't been to Hogsmeade in ages. I didn't fancy being alone on Valentine's Day, and I wanted you to meet a few of my mates... this is Draegan and Fiona.”  
  
They exchanged hellos, and Hermione fell silent as Will, Ginny, and his friends chatted animatedly for a few minutes.  
  
“Shall we order something to eat?” asked Will, turning to Hermione once again. “I'm starving.”  
  
“Actually,” she said, glancing at Harry and Ginny. “We had planned to eat lunch at the Hog's Head... have you even been there?”  
  
By the look on Will's face, he had been inside the Hog's Head, and remembered it as a place one where one would not want to eat.  
  
“It's improved greatly in the past year,” she said, laughing. “Trust me! The best part is, it's never crowded, since Aberforth generally doesn't like having students in his tavern.”  
  
Will agreed, and they set out for the Hog's Head. The couples paired off, leaving Hermione to lead the the way with only Will by her side. He kissed her head lightly as they started walking. She began to feel uneasy as she noticed faculty and students staring at her, undoubtedly assuming the handsome wizard on a Valentine's date with Hermione Granger was her boyfriend.  
  
“I've really missed you,” said Will, once more putting an arm around her as they walked. “I hope you're not upset about my little surprise.”  
  
“Well...” Hermione began. “I would feel better about this if you hadn't shown up today, of all days. I'm just afraid that I'm going to disappoint you. I'm still not interested in a relationship.”  
  
Will fell silent for a moment before he said, “No... you've got it all wrong. I just wanted to see you again and surprise you. I'm prone to grand gestures, as you might have noticed. I'm not one to hide my feelings, and I'm still crazy about you... but I didn't do this because I need you to be my girlfriend right now.”  
  
He noticed a group of girls staring at them, whispering and giggling, and quickly pulled Hermione off into a side street.  
  
“Hermione, I'm not asking for anything but some time with you today. Relax... enjoy the moment.”  
  
He pulled her toward him, and looked into her eyes. “You're such a serious, hard-working little bookworm,” he said affectionately. “But I think you enjoy it when I'm around to lighten the mood and convince you to have a little fun.”  
  
Hermione stared at him. Rather than being charmed by his words, she took offense to his attitude toward her personality. He acted as if her life would be hopelessly boring without him around, as if she needed him to save her from herself! He then kissed her passionately, one hand on her back pressing her into his chest. Hermione wrenched herself away.  
  
“Will, please! I suppose I haven't been clear enough. While I greatly enjoyed our time together over break, I am not interested in anything more with you... we are very different people and frankly, I don't appreciate you implying that I don't know how to have a good time without you!”  
  
He gaped at her. Her irritation growing, she continued, “I might not have as many 'mates' as you, or spend every evening with my friends, but I'm happy with my life, and I truly love and enjoy my work – it's not boring to me. I prefer to spend my nights alone reading, and I'm glad that my friends understand that and give me my space. You would never be able to do that. I may be quite a few years younger than you, but I know myself well enough to know that even though I find you attractive, charming, and funny, I don't want to continue any kind of relationship beyond that of a friend.”  
  
He was still speechless, but looked upset now as well.  
  
“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm feeling rather ill. Go on and have lunch with Ginny and your friends. I'm going back to the castle," Hermione said.  
  
Hermione fled, tears welling up in her eyes. She should never have allowed herself to have a fling with Will Beck, as it was once again serving to remind her that the one person who truly understood her was the one she could not have. They were separated by years of life, positions of power, and the very real possibility that he saw her as a girl with a silly crush. She took the back way to the path leading to the castle and slowed her pace, tears streaming down her face as months of pent-up frustration overwhelmed her.  
  
“Hermione.”  
  
The one voice she most loved to hear say her name rang out, not far behind her. She turned and met the dark depths of his eyes, her heart instantly leaping into her throat and rattling out an erratic cadence. She sensed it at once – he knew.


	20. Into the Woods

Since rescuing Hermione from Vane Gottfried, Severus had lost the will to stay completely within the bounds of propriety around her. They had been lucky that Gottfried chose a course of action which kept his three victims alive, at least until he was able to get to Harry and Severus. He was keenly aware that she might have been killed, and that knowledge haunted him. Time spent with her now was tense, almost as painful as it was enjoyable. He now had no doubt that, right or wrong, he loved Hermione Granger. Severus found himself standing closer, staring longer, and seeking out any opportunity to talk to her... always in the Potions tunnel or otherwise out of the public eye, of course.  
  
One night, he noticed her rubbing her neck as she stirred a potion, squeezing her shoulder muscle and wincing.  
  
“Does it hurt often?” he asked.  
  
“Merlin, yes, all this week!” she said.  
  
“I could show you a few spells that may help.”  
  
She nodded. He stood behind her and used the tip of his wand to trace a line from one shoulder joint to the other, then from one side of her neck behind her ear, down to where it joined her shoulders and back up the other side. Then he rested his wand in the small hollow at the base of her skull and murmured the first spell to relax her muscles and release the tension.  
  
“Oh! That worked!”  
  
She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”  
  
“I'm not finished,” he said. He gently pushed on her shoulder until she had turned back around.  
  
He murmured another spell and swept his wand in circles in the air, which began to glow. The circle became smaller and smaller until his wand touched her back right between her shoulders, just below her neck. He traced the circle once more on her back and then held his wand still for a few seconds before tapping it lightly. A warm glow spread over her upper back and neck before dissipating with a faint burst of blue-white light.  
  
“That felt amazing. Are those healing spells?” she asked.  
  
“They are ancient relaxation and meditation aids,” he said. “They are often used by Potions Masters to relieve the muscle tension that comes from hours spent leaning over a cauldron using the same repetitive motions.”  
  
“Can you teach me how to use them?” she asked.  
  
“Certainly... as soon as you've finished this potion.”  
  
She had later practiced the spells on him, getting them right after only a few tries. Severus had slept unusually well that night.  
  
It was soon Valentine's Day, one of the stupidest holidays that existed, as far as Severus was concerned. He refused to allow Filius and the house-elves to put up the usual sickening decorations, as he was headmaster and he hated the sight of them. It was also a Hogsmeade weekend for the students. Severus was walking through Hogsmeade on his way to the Three Broomsticks to meet Minerva and Filius when he saw Hermione. She was on the arm of the undeniably attractive Beck, walking ahead of her friends. She was with Beck – today of all days – and he had just kissed her head, smiling.  
  
Unwilling to cross paths with the couple, Severus had quickly ducked into Honeydukes. It was an unusual place for him to be, especially so suddenly. Every student inside immediately stopped talking and turned to stare at him. Ignoring the attention, Severus walked up to the counter and grabbed a package of sugar quills from the nearby display. As he purchased the silly confections, garnering more silent stares and an odd look from the cashier, he peered out of the large window behind the counter. Hermione and Beck suddenly veered off into a side street. He left the shop and walked casually toward the spot where he knew she would be, wondering what he thought he was going to do when he caught up to them. Stopping on the other side of the street, he casually watched them out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Beck pulled her into a kiss and Severus felt his heart skip a beat – but she quickly pulled away, flustered, and began talking to Beck in low tones, looking very serious. Severus turned and left, realizing that Minerva might come looking for him at any moment. He walked back to the Three Broomstick and saw her waiting outside.  
  
“I was beginning to think you weren't coming back. Trouble with some students?” she asked.  
  
“It would seem not,” said Severus. He saw Hermione emerge from her hiding spot with Beck and quickly dart into another street, one that would lead her back to the castle without passing the shops. Seconds later, Beck appeared and slowly trudged over to meet Ginny Weasley, Potter, and a few more young people Severus did not recognize.  
  
“Severus? Are you coming inside?”  
  
He turned his attention back to Minerva, who had her hand on the door handle.  
  
“I'm sorry, I cannot join you. I must return to the castle.”  
  
“Is everything all right?” Minerva called.  
  
Severus was already a few long strides away, and did not answer. He was able to catch up with Hermione about a quarter of the way up the path to the castle. As he got closer, he was able to sense that she was upset. He picked up his pace as she slowed down, and then he was suddenly hit with the full depth of her emotions. She was angry at Beck, upset that he was here, and also horribly, desperately frustrated and hopeless... and those latter emotions were quite obviously attached to her thoughts of him, which were many and vivid. Memories of working with him in the tunnel swirled in her mind, marked by such strong longing, desire, and sadness that he could hardly see straight. Tripping over a stone in the path, he called out to her at last.  
  
“Hermione.”  
  
She turned around, her face wet with trails of tears. Her eyes widened as she realized that her mind was fully open to him in that moment. He found his footing and quickly closed the space between them with a few more strides. They stood staring at one another in shock, their breath coming in quick, visible puffs of white in the cold air.  
  
 _Say something!_ She held his gaze unflinchingly as she used her thoughts to plead with him.  
  
“Not here,” he said, turning to look down the path behind them. “Come. This way.”  
  
He gripped her arm, and led her off the path into the thick patch of woods beside it. Once out of sight from possible passersby, he turned to her once again. Unable to bear looking into her bright, expectant eyes any longer without losing control, he closed his own. Grasping her head in both of his hands, he pressed his forehead against hers and, with a deeply drawn breath, opened his mind to her. All of what he felt for her was laid bare between them: attraction, admiration, appreciation, the pleasure he took in every one of their conversations, his contentment when working with her in the lab, and how much he desired her in that moment, as he finally dared to indulge in those feelings.  
  
As the waves of their thoughts calmed and their emotions steadied into blissful acceptance and relief, he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his thick winter cloak, pulling her flush against his chest. She was shaking, though whether it was from the cold or emotion, it was hard to tell. The wind was now howling outside the wood, shaking the tops of the trees.  
  
“I think...” he said softly at last, pulling away from the embrace, “It would be best to occlude our minds for the moment, if we are to have the conversation that must now happen.”  
  
 _If you insist,_ she thought, before closing her eyes and doing as he suggested. He hardly noticed the loss of her warm, passionate thoughts with his own still flowing swiftly through his mind.  
  
He pulled her over to sit next to him on a large fallen tree trunk, and held her tear-streaked face in his palm for a moment before speaking.  
  
“It was not my intention to ignore your feelings for me forever,” he began, and she gasped.  
  
“You... you knew? How long have you known?" she asked in surprise.  
  
Severus wondered how she could be so surprised, when she'd been drowning the air between them in her feelings as of late.

“It was only recently I began to suspect anything in your actions or thoughts," he said.  
  
She laughed, “Oh, god! It's been _months_ since I realized – er – how I felt. It was so hard being in classes with you every day last term, trying to keep all my embarrassing, inappropriate thoughts about you to myself. Watching you teach the advanced subjects so brilliantly only made me love you that much more. ”  
  
Severus blinked. “Since last term?”  
  
“Since October,” she confirmed. “Obviously, it all started while we were cursed, but I suppose I was in denial then. It was too... inappropriate to even consider.”  
  
Severus had to take a moment to check his emotions and keep his mind occluded. She smiled at him with large, watery eyes and made a strange, soft squeak of a sound as he leaned in to claim her mouth at last. She responded with more finesse than he would have expected.  
  
After a heated minute or so, Severus broke away and said seriously, “I had planned to wait until you left Hogwarts to... see where mutual feelings might lead.”

She grew serious and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.  
  
“What now? There are months of school left. I'm still your student. You could lose your job if anyone suspects.”  
  
Severus threw his arm around her along with his cloak, and pulled her close as he said, “We must wait. There can be no hint of indiscretion, lest your work under my supervision be discredited. Your work is too valuable to be thrown out over an affair with your advisor. We must carefully craft every interaction that might be observed. You must be cautious when you speak of me with your peers. If...” he paused as she lay her head on his shoulder comfortably, conflicted about how natural the intimate gesture felt to him. “If you wish to attempt a relationship after you leave Hogwarts... no one can suspect it began here.”  
  
“I know, but...”  
  
 _I want you,_ she thought, overwhelming his thoughts with a searing wave of desire.   
  
He closed his eyes as she ran a hand up over his chest, shoulder, and behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss that lasted a few moments before a falling tree branch startled them.  
  
“If we stay here any longer we shall be frozen solid,” he said.  
  
She cast another warming spell, but it could only do so much with the violent wind whistling through the trees and tearing at their robes and hair. They reluctantly emerged from the wood to find a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow under their feet, and enormous wet snowflakes being sent sideways and whipped into spirals by the strong gusts of wind. They walked slowly against the wind and snow with shield charms in front of them, back toward Hogwarts and their inevitable separation. Once they arrived, they realized that most of those who had gone to Hogsmeade were still there, waiting out the storm.  
  
Upon Severus stepping foot into the castle, Minerva's Patronus found him and told him that she had gathered all the students accounted for on the list except for Miss Granger, and had them with her in the Three Broomsticks until the storm cleared and they could walk back together.  
  
Severus quickly sent a Patronus back, telling her that Hermione was in the castle, safe and well. Hermione watched with interest as he did so, and remarked that she had never seen his Patronus before. It was now a bat, after so many years of steadfastly proclaiming his devotion to Lily in the form of a doe.  
  
They stood in the empty entrance hall, staring at one another, emotionally shell-shocked and physically exhausted from their trek back to the castle.  
  
 _I can't believe today was real,_ she thought. _It already feels like a dream._  
  
 _It was no dream,_ he thought back, allowing her to feel a bit of his emotions once again, her own euphoria answering back.  
  
 _The rest of the year will be torture,_ she thought.  
  
He studied her.  
  
 _I think not,_ he thought. _It may instead prove to be a most pleasurable exercise in patience._


	21. Sonata in Development

Hermione spent the evening of Valentine's Day in a haze of happy delirium, trying as hard as she could to act normally around her friends.  
  
They had returned to a late dinner once the storm passed. Harry and Ginny had a lot of questions for Hermione after hearing Will's side of the story. Apparently, he had told them that Hermione was sick and nothing else, but he had clearly been upset by her absence.  
  
“So, obviously you're not sick,” said Ginny. “What happened with Will earlier? He was so disappointed that you left.”  
  
Hermione sighed. “Look, I know you wanted me and Will to work out, and he's great, really... but we just aren't right together. We're too different and we had an argument today when I told him how I felt.”  
  
Ginny laughed. “Are you serious? You hardly know him! How can you know it wouldn't work? You barely gave him a chance. Besides, you seemed pretty into him over the holidays... you two were inseparable!”  
  
Hermione shook her head. “I know him better than you think. We talked a lot over Christmas, enough for me to realize that he would expect me to change in ways that I'm not comfortable with in order to spend time together.”  
  
Harry was frowning. “Do you mean he... did he try to force you... to _do things_ you didn't want to?”  
  
Hermione blushed violently at Harry's insinuation. “Merlin, no, Harry! It wasn't anything like _that,_ but in case you haven't noticed, Will is a really outgoing person. He can't stand to be bored, and he isn't happy unless he's with a group of friends. He loves to be the center of attention, and he would want me to be there with him.”  
  
Neither of her friends seemed to understand why her description of Will would lead her to feel she couldn't date him.  
  
“I might have given him more of a chance, if his attitude today hadn't annoyed me so much. First of all, I wasn't happy that he decided to surprise me by showing up unannounced on Valentine's Day. Sorry, Ginny, I know that most girls would have loved it, but the last thing I said to him was that I wasn't interested in a relationship at the moment and then he just shows up! On Valentine's Day!”  
  
Ginny looked a but embarrassed. “Er – sorry I didn't tell you, Hermione. I thought it was sweet, and for all I knew you guys were still talking. You never said anything about shutting him down over Christmas!”  
  
“It's all right, Ginny,” said Hermione. “What really upset me was his attitude when I told him I still didn't think we should date. He acted like I was just being coy, and that I needed him to get me out of my shell or something. I _like_ my alone time – it's a choice, not a personality defect to overcome!”  
  
“Yeah, I get it,” said Ginny at last. “I suppose you are right about you guys not working out. I just thought you liked Will and I wanted to help things along. He seemed crazy about you.”  
  
Hermione laughed. “He is. Er – was, I suppose. I don't think he will be after today. I do feel bad about getting upset and just taking off like that.”  
  
They avoided her eyes. Harry coughed. “Well, Ron thinks you were trying to avoid him and Padma, so he's, uh, gotten the wrong idea about you, er, being over him.”  
  
“What? But I've told him I'm happy for him and that I don't hold anything against him... more than once! Ginny, haven't you told him that I'm not sitting around pining for him?”  
  
“I have!” she affirmed. “It's just that you avoided him and ran off with Will every night at Christmas, and then today you disappeared and didn't meet us all for lunch... and, well, it's Ron.”  
  
Ginny shrugged. “Eventually, he'll believe you.”  
  
Hermione frowned. “I suppose it has seemed like I'm avoiding him more since they got engaged, but it really hasn't been because I'm jealous, or... or still want him. I can't believe he really thinks I've been sitting around all year waiting for him to break up with Padma! That couldn't be farther from the truth. I suppose I will have to talk to him, if he won't believe you two.”  
  
Hermione wasted no time in that endeavor, and immediately walked over to where Ron sat.  
  
“Hello, Ron,” she said brightly. “Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”  
  
Padma's eyes grew rounder, and she shot Ron a questioning glance.  
  
“Don't worry, this won't take long!” said Hermione, as she led a nervous, confused Ron out of the great hall and into an empty classroom.  
  
“Ron Weasley, I can't believe what I've just heard from Harry and Ginny!”  
  
Ron managed to look both frightened and angry for a moment. “Uh, what's that?”  
  
“You think I'm in love with you?!”  
  
“Well... aren't you?” he asked innocently.  
  
“NO!”  
  
Hermione glared at him as she said, “I'll have you know that I've been over you, Ronald, since the summer. No, it wasn't as fast as you seemed to have gotten over _me_ ,” Ron managed to look appropriately ashamed of himself as she paused for a breath,“but I was never in love with you, so you see, it's quite impossible that I would be avoiding you because I still want to be with you, or that I'm jealous of Padma!”  
  
“Okay! Bloody hell, I was just trying to think of your feelings, is all!”  
  
“So, you thought I might still have feelings for you, and you decided to gossip about it to my friends? Instead of talking to me? We've already had this conversation, anyway, Ron. I don't understand why you would think I'm lying about what I feel.”  
  
Ron was silent for a moment. “Well, I suppose it might be because of something Mum always said.”  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Well, what is it?”  
  
“She always said that if your first time was with someone you loved, you would form an unbreakable love bond with them. It's why so many magical folk marry young.”  
  
Hermione laughed. “Oh, Ron! Honestly! That's obviously not true! I've never read about any such love magic, and I've read.... a lot.”  
  
“Oh. Well, then...”  
  
“Wait a minute, does that mean that when we... did it... you thought we were forming some kind of love bond? And then, you left me for Padma a few months later?!” Hermione asked, horrified.   
  
“Well, that's just... not what I meant... I mean, if it had worked, I wouldn't have been able to fall in love with Padma, would I?” Ron glanced at her and then dropped his gaze to the floor.  
  
“Okay,” she said. “If it didn't work, then why would you think I was going to love you forever?”  
  
“I dunno! Because you've been acting strange lately, all right?! Sort of like when you liked me, before we get together... just moping around, staring off into thin air... sighing a lot.”  
  
“What? I have not!”  
  
“Have to! It was Padma that pointed it out first, so I'm not the only one.”  
  
Hermione gasped and shook her head in disbelief. “Has it occurred to either one of you, that perhaps I'm _moping_ over someone who's NOT YOU?”  
  
“Yeah! We figured it was Will, but then you ran away when he came to visit, and _that_ didn't make any sense. So... I thought maybe it was me. It's not that crazy!”  
  
Hermione sighed. “Yeah, okay... but it's not you, all right? I was, uh, thinking a lot about Will after the holidays, but as it turns out we aren't going to be dating. Not that it's any of your business who I might fancy.”  
  
They avoided looking at one another as Hermione sat down next to him.  
  
“I really am happy for you and Padma,” she said softly. “I'm sorry if I haven't shown it, but I think you two will be very happy together. Don't worry about me, Ron, I'm doing just fine. In fact, now that Will's out of the picture, I think I will be doing much better.”  
  
“Well, good... I guess,” said Ron, looking a bit confused.  
  
Hermione let Ron return to Padma, bidding him to explain that Hermione was not, in fact, pining over her fiance. Hermione spent the rest of the evening reading in a luxurious bubble bath, her mind frequently wandering from the words on the page to a certain wizard. Snape had not been at dinner.  
  
 _Severus,_ she told herself.  
  
She could hardly be in love with him and continue to think of him by his surname, though she would still have to address him as such unless they were alone. However, after years of saying “Professor Snape” or simply, “Snape”, it was hard to feel right about saying his first name.  
  
Hermione wondered if he was trying to avoid being around her in front of the rest of the school. He was probably worried she would do or say something stupid. Getting through the rest of the year was going to be the hardest test Hermione had ever attempted. She was good at a lot of things, but acting was not one of them.  
  
 _Obviously, since even Ron could tell I was pining for Snape!_  
  
“Severus!” she reminded herself out loud.  
  
She was lucky that she could blame her recent moods on trying to work it out with Will. Hermione returned to her book for a few more minutes before questions about her relationship with Snape – or, rather, Severus – began to bombard her mind. They had not talked about anything except the obvious need for secrecy. They knew one another's minds so well, and could perfectly understand how the other felt without even a word... but there was much about him that was still a mystery.  
  
His past, for one. How much of it would he share with her? Did she even want to know? It wouldn't change her feelings for him, and perhaps some things were better left in the past.  
  
He had probably gathered from her thoughts toward him earlier that evening, that she was not a virgin. Hermione hoped to avoid that awkward conversation. For some reason, it seemed that either nobody believed she was attractive enough to have been with anyone yet, or they assumed she was a prude because she spent so much time studying and wore rather demure clothing. Surely he would not make those assumptions, especially after some of the thoughts she had sent his way during their encounter in the woods.  
  
Hermione spent the next few long moments replaying every thought, touch, look, and word spoken between them. Anxiety over the future laced her warm thoughts. Hermione was not sure what her expectations were of their secret relationship. What she wanted most at the moment, she could not have, and perhaps that was for the best. Hermione had never really been in relationship - Viktor, Ron and Will didn't count since it had been almost entirely a physical attraction in each case. Her feelings for Severus had not started anywhere in the same realm as those for Ron and Will. She had loved him before she even knew that she wanted him, and Hermione wondered if that would make all the difference.  
  
Hermione shook her head. She would not worry about the details anymore at the moment. She would simply enjoy the bliss of the day and the relaxation of her bath. She closed her eyes and let herself remember the feel of his lean body as her pulled her into his chest and held her. Suddenly, a bright glow shimmered across her closed eyelids. She cautiously opened her eyes, and was greeted by Severus' bat Patronus hanging from a nearby sconce, waiting patiently for her to acknowledge it.  
  
“Yes?” she asked.  
  
“Shall we meet an hour earlier in the lab tomorrow? There is much to discuss, and yet your work must go on... brewing time is sacred.”  
  
She grinned, and prepared to send back her own message. Her smile faded into a dropped jaw of amazement, as the Patronus that exited her wand took form. It had changed, and was now a flitting, vibrating hummingbird that shot back and forth in the air, awaiting it's message.  
  
“You are right, we must not cut into brewing time with our discussion. I intend to win awards with this work. Tomorrow at one o'clock," she said.  
  
Hermione watched her little bird whisk itself away in a flash, and pondered the meaning of the change. Patronuses often changed when a person underwent emotional upheaval or significant life change. She supposed both could be true in her case, though at what point her Patronus had changed was a mystery since she had not cast the charm since the war ended.  
  
Many people thought that if a couple was truly meant to be together, their Patronuses would match or somehow compliment one another. Other theories were less optimistic, saying that a Patronus change often signaled unrequited love, and that couples with matching corporeal forms might have an unhealthy dependence on each other. All Hermione knew for sure was that casting her Patronus had been easier than ever before with such fresh happy memories flooding her mind that night.  
  
Immediately after lunch the next day, Hermione left her friends for the work room.  
  
“Already, Hermione?” asked Ginny incredulously. “You might as well sleep there. You know you'll be there all night again.”  
  
“I've considered it,” said Hermione, the idea taking on a new meaning now in light of recent events, “but even if there was room for a bed, Professor Snape would never allow it.”  
  
Ginny seemed unsure as to whether Hermione was joking, so Hermione laughed. “I'm joking! I assure you, I have no desire to sleep with my potions.”  
  
 _Just the former Potions professor,_ she thought as she said, “Although at times I think I might fall asleep standing over one of them when it's not cooperating.”  
  
Hermione hurried down to the Potions work room, hardly able to contain her eagerness to see him again. She entered the Advanced Potions classroom and saw that the tunnel was already open. He stood just inside it waiting for her. She slowed her pace, flustered under his gaze.  
  
“You're late,” he said darkly, but a slight smile appeared after the remark.  
  
“I had to get rid of Ginny,” said Hermione. “She wanted to know why I had to come down here so early on a Sunday afternoon, and I could hardly say that I was meeting you. I don't dare say your name around her for fear she'll know something's off.”  
  
“Which is why,” he said putting a light hand on her back and walking with her to the work room, “we should not do anything that would make it harder for you to... keep your composure.”  
  
“Are you trying to tell me I can't act?” she said playfully. “I must not be that bad, since it took you so long to catch on, and you can practically read my mind when the conditions are right.”  
  
“You think you are up to the challenge? Shall we test your skills in the arts of deception and dissimulation?” He slid his hand to the small of her back, pulled her into him, and leaned down to kiss her neck, sending a deep, electrifying thrill through her body.  
  
“Will you be able to keep this memory from affecting you the next time one of your friends says 'Snape'?” he whispered in her ear.  
  
Hermione swallowed with some difficulty. “I... suppose we will find out.”  
  
He let go of her and leaned back on the work table.  
  
“The use of Occlumency would help, though it will tend to convince others that you are depressed, aloof, and hiding something. So, if you go that route you must also be careful.”  
  
“I suppose we could avoid one another all together,” she said. “I could even pretend I dislike working with you on my project... except that I've already told everyone that you've been a great advisor.”  
  
He folded his arms and said, “The best lies are those that contain mostly truth. You shall neither speak of your work with me too often, nor avoid mentioning it completely. When you speak of your work, do not avoid my name, but make sure the mention of it is benign and unremarkable. As far as your friends know, I brew in my own work room with the doors shut, and prefer to be undisturbed unless it is an emergency or an unexpected break-through.”  
  
Hermione gave him a serious look and said, “Oh, so you mean I shouldn't have told them already that you like to stand two feet away from me and watch me as I work? Or that you often work your own magic on my aching shoulders and neck with those relaxation spells?”  
  
He rewarded her with a small smile and said, “I hope you haven't told them about the sounds you make while I perform said spells. On a more serious note, there is something we must take into consideration with our... experimentation.”  
  
Hermione's face flushed at his tone of voice. She was already failing miserably at keeping her composure in his presence.  
  
“While there are ways we could ensure our memories do not reveal that our relationship began this year, there is a spell that reveals whether or not two people have... had physical relations, defined as 'consummation'.”  
  
Hermione's face was still red. She could feel her ears burning. She endeavored to calm her mind, and felt some of the heat subside as he continued.  
  
“In the event the board suspected anything untoward happened between us while you were a student, they could use this spell to determine whether or not I would be removed from my office as headmaster at Hogwarts and banned. Also, as we already discussed, an affair with your advisor would mar your otherwise impeccable reputation, and the reception of your work on this project.”  
  
Hermione cleared her throat. “What exactly does the spell, uh, check for?”  
  
“The exact definition of the 'consummation' is murky, but it is likely to encompass any physical interaction in which the participants in question are not fully clothed.”  
  
“Ah... good. I mean, not good... but better than what I thought it might be.”  
  
A sly smile, larger than before, crept across his face. “You are relieved it has nothing to do with virginity.”  
  
“I – er – yes, that _is_ what I meant. Because I'm not. One.”  
  
Still looking rather smug, his eyes danced with light. “I had gathered as much, and thank Merlin for that,” he said. “And also that our school board, as ancient as many of its members may be, is not so archaic in its attitudes toward a women's virtue as it might have once been.”  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly at him. “You're glad you won't be my first... why should it matter to you?”  
  
"It's impossible to be the best, if you are also the one and only," he said, almost playfully, after a moment, but Hermione sensed he had other reasons. Perhaps reasons that had to do with not wanting to feel so much older than her.   
  
“And if you _were_ to be my first...?”  
  
He stepped toward her again. “Then you would have been a lucky witch, indeed.”  
  
“Must you tease?”  
  
He ran his hands slowly up her arms, over her shoulders, and up to her face, cupping it in his hands. “Do not think of it as teasing. Think of it..." He seemed to be searching for the right words, then said, "...as the opening notes of a symphony that will set the tone for the final coda. If done well, the final movement will be...”  
  
He leaned closer to her. “Transcendental.”  
  
Mesmerized by the promise in his eyes, she said, “I don't know what a coda is, but I think I'm looking forward to it.”  
  
He kissed her, slowly deepening the kiss before stopping abruptly, stepping away from her, and rolling up his sleeves.  
  
“I believe your potion is ready to brew. Shall we get to work?”


	22. A Few Key Changes

Severus planned to thoroughly enjoy the months left in Hermione's seventh year. Where it might end, he could not say, but he hoped that what had begun would last well past her departure from the school.  
  
He watched the start of Hermione's tentative friendship with Draco with interest. The time they spent together was not filled with conversation; they would often spend hours reading silently together. It seemed that Hermione enjoyed the company of a peer who would not wonder why she was often quiet and lost in her thoughts. Draco would not ask if she was still upset over ending her relationship with Will Beck, as she reported her other friends did.  
  
She occluded her mind whenever Severus was around, or if he was the subject of conversation. His name came up more often in her conversations with Potter now, for the boy seemed to have decided to forgive him after years of antagonization. He had taken to speaking to Severus in a respectful manner and initiating conversations of his own accord. He now acknowledged Severus in the halls with either a nod or a quick “Professor”, and he had cornered Severus once to ask him a question about a lesson Shacklebolt had just taught, remembering that Severus had approached the defensive spells in question differently. Harry's sudden interest in Severus made Hermione nervous, though she was happy that Harry was changing his mind about Severus and making an effort to reconcile.  
  
Severus knew that Harry hated him with deep conviction for most of his young life, believing he was truly working for the Dark Lord from his first year at Hogwarts. Severus had done what he could to encourage the animosity. It had been the best way to keep the Dark Lord from suspecting the truth. He had genuinely disliked the boy as well, especially as he got older. As began to accept Harry's forgiveness and newfound respect, he discovered he was able to look at the boy without seeing his mother or father in his face.   
  
There would come a time in the near future when Severus would tell Hermione the truth of his history with Lily, his initiation as a Death Eater, and his decision to become a spy for Dumbledore. He was loath to show her all of what he had been as a young wizard. She was only a bit older than he had been when he made the decisions that took him to the darkest time in his life. Severus thought could trust her not to judge him by the choices he had made out of bitterness and isolation as a young man.   
  
One day Severus found Draco and Hermione in the infirmary talking to one another.  
  
“So, you're out of here in a week,” Hermione said. Draco grunted in response but she continued gently prying, unfazed. “What are you going to do?”  
  
A long silence followed, during which Severus made himself known.  
  
“Just the question I was coming to ask of Draco, Miss Granger.”  
  
She spun around and met his eyes with a smile. “Uh, hello... Professor Snape.”  
  
“Miss Granger, I am surprised to find you here yet again. I was not aware that you and Draco were such good... friends."   
  
She laughed and glanced at Draco, who was frowning.  
  
“She's been here every other day for weeks, and you're just now noticing?” the boy asked.  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Never mind about Miss Granger, do not avoid the question at hand. What plans have you for the rest of the school year?”  
  
Draco glared at Severus. “There is a job for me in Egypt, should I want it, and I figure there's no point in trying to take any N.E.W.T.s, as I haven't actually been in classes all year.”  
  
“There is still much of the spring term left, do you not think you could manage one or two N.E.W.T.s in that amount of time? A career without any further study can only take you so far. In what field is your potential job to be?”  
  
Draco smirked as he said, “Magical textiles.”  
  
Hermione gave him a skeptical look and said, “You mean... magic carpets and such?”  
  
“Yes, Granger, but less magic carpets and more... inventing and producing new magical fabrics," said Draco.  
  
Severus sensed Hermione's mind working as she tried to make sense of a world in which Draco Malfoy went into into such an unexpected, benign profession.  
  
“If that is to be your path,” said Severus to Draco, “then I would suggest earning a Charms N.E.W.T. at the very least. Is there any reason you must go to Egypt immediately, other than your desire to be away from Hogwarts?”  
  
Draco was silent for a moment before he said, “No, the job will be there when I'm ready. I suppose you're right about further study in Charms."  
  
Severus nodded. “Might I also suggest Potions, in which you excelled? There are many ways they are used in the manufacture of magically-infused textiles. I think two courses would suffice for your course load, if you wish to catch up to your peers.”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine. I'll take the potions N.E.W.T. as well. Happy now?”  
  
Severus eyed the two students in front of him thoughtfully. “It will be difficult, but I have confidence you will rise to the occasion, Draco. And I think...” Severus walked around the bed, so that he could see Hermione's face, “I will ask Miss Granger to tutor you in those subjects, as she has already passed the N.E.W.T.s in question.”  
  
Hermione's mouth dropped open. “Oh, really? As if I don't have enough to do... as you well, know, _Professor_ , since you're advising my Potions project, which is currently taking up all of my free time!”  
  
Severus smirked at her and said, “You are an industrious worker, Miss Granger. I have no doubt that you are capable of assisting Draco in his studies a few times a week – time you already spend with him now in the infirmary. I am proposing that you be paid as a tutor for your efforts.”  
  
Hermione studied him closely. “I suppose I'm not opposed to that.” She turned to Draco. “Very well. I'll be your tutor, Draco.”  
  
“I'm thrilled,” he replied, sounding anything but.  
  
“Me too!” she said blithely, gathering her books. “If you'll both excuse me, I've just realized I have to go check on one of my potions in about ten minutes.”  
  
She turned to Severus. “Are you still coming by this evening to make sure I don't blow up the lab when I start testing this one?”  
  
“Indeed,” he said. “I will be in my work room at the usual time. Come find me when you're ready to begin.”  
  
Hermione left and Draco stared at Severus. “So, when's the wedding?” he asked suddenly, a smirk growing on his face.  
  
Severus gave him a blank look. "Excuse me?"  
  
He smirked. “You and Granger sound like an old married couple. I was just wondering when you're going to make it official. I know you were acting a part all those years, but bloody hell, I never would have thought I'd see you and Hermione Granger having a polite, respectful conversation, or that you would ever agree to be her advisor. Of course, it still screws with my head when I to speak to _you_ at all. You're... different. It was always entertaining to hear you take people down a notch for looking at you the wrong way, but now you're almost _nice._ ”  
  
Severus closed his eyes.  
  
“Draco, I often wished I could have told you the truth, or somehow kept you from the Dark Lord's service, but your family was bound to him before you were born. There was no escape for Lucius, Narcissa, or you. I could trust nobody to keep the secret of my true allegiance, certainly not your parents, whose minds were open to the Dark Lord. They would not have let you out of their sight, for up until the end they denied that you were in danger. If you had shown less promise or interest, and if Lucius had not been imprisoned, perhaps you might have escaped the Dark Lord's notice... but he still would have found a way to use you against them.”  
  
Draco was silent.  
  
“I am deeply sorry for what happened to your family,” Severus continued, “and that I could do no better job of protecting you from the Dark Lord.”  
  
After a few moments more of silence Draco muttered, “I chose my own path, don't know what you think you might have done about it.”  
  
He looked up at Severus. “I suppose it makes sense now that you were always so sodding _interested_ in my life. I always thought you fancied mother and were trying to impress her, to be honest.”  
  
Severus blinked at that accusation, reminded of the boy whose mother he _had_ loved, the boy who he had spent his life protecting instead of Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter had never been in danger of being seduced by the Dark Lord, for he had not been brought up to believe in blood purity. Dumbledore had made sure of that.  
  
“I... I never thanked you... for doing what I couldn't. I blamed you even though I knew I would have failed to do it. I thought you took my chance to get that evil bastard off of our backs for a while, just because you wanted the glory and, well... I'm sorry.”  
  
Severus sat down heavily in the chair next to the bed, overcome by the memory of the worst act he had been forced to commit in the service of either of his masters during the war. He had risked his soul for Albus and for Draco and somehow he had come out of it unscathed.  
  
“I... accept your apology.” Severus looked at Draco.  
  
“Draco, do not hold on to your bitterness over the past. Returning to the castle will be painful for you. However, you must use the opportunity to create the best possible future for yourself. I am glad to see that you seem truly repentant for your actions. It seems that Miss Granger has completely forgiven you, and she is no fool. I know that you spent years as her enemy, no doubt targeting her for her blood status. You are able to look past that now?”  
  
Draco did not meet his eyes as he said, “If I've learned anything since last year, it's that blood purity is a lie.”  
  
Relief flooded Severus' mind and he stood. “Draco, you may yet surprise us all.”  
  
With that, he left the boy to his thoughts and to sleep. Madam Pomfrey had been circling the vicinity, giving him a look he knew meant that she thought he was keeping Draco from resting. Severus went to his office to bide his time until he could meet Hermione in the Potions tunnel. He was greeted by her Patronus waiting for him, flitting impatiently around a sleeping Fawkes.  
  
“Yes?” he asked.  
  
 _“Don't you think you're being too nice to me around Draco?”_  
  
Severus smiled and occupied himself with scheduling O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, and working on exam proctor assignments.  
  
At last it was dinner time, and Severus was glad to see Minerva and Margaret join him in the great hall. Both had been ill the past few days and not inclined to eat the rich food served by Hogwarts house-elves. With little good conversation to distract him, it was tempting to watch Hermione and her friends too closely. This evening she was eating with a book hovering in the air in front of her face. Every few minutes she flicked her finger at it to turn the page. It appeared that her friends were giving her a hard time about studying while eating. She shot Harry a glare before speaking quickly and taking a bite of greens.  
  
“I hear you have been working late in the Potions lab these days, Severus,” said Minerva, suddenly bringing his attention back to his own table.  
  
“Not usually late, but more often,” Severus replied, “I believe I have stocked Poppy's store room sufficiently for the foreseeable future. Horace is beside himself with gratitude, which is... convenient.”  
  
Minerva laughed. “Do you miss teaching? I think you enjoyed those advanced classes. Perhaps we should offer the option every year. I have always thought that Hogwarts needed more advanced studies for its students. Why should they go elsewhere, when we have the ability to offer more?”  
  
“Indeed,” said Severus. “I had considered the same.”  
  
“How is Hermione coming along with her work, Severus?” asked Margaret. “I haven't heard you talk about her progress in a while. No problems, I hope?”  
  
“She is doing as brilliantly as ever,” said Severus. “I must supervise another experiment this evening.”  
  
“Miss Granger is truly the brightest witch of her age,” said Minerva, echoing the much-repeated sentiment once again.  
  
“Indeed,” said Severus. “We may expect great things from her. She is so far ahead in her classes, and doing so well with the project, that I have assigned her to tutor Draco Malfoy, who has decided to attempt the Charms and Potions N.E.W.T.s by the end of the year.”  
  
Minerva gave him a sharp look.  
  
“Do you not think that places too much of a burden on her? Malfoy may be reformed, but surely she has painful memories of his bullying. He was horrid to his Muggle-born peers as a child, and with his family's involvement in the war...”  
  
"Did you know she has been Draco's only regular visitor these past weeks since they were both rescued from Vane Gottfried?" Severus asked.  
  
Margaret was beaming as she said, “I heard that from Poppy. The girl has a remarkable mind and a remarkable heart to go with it. Her capacity to forgive and her emotional maturity must be great indeed. What a rare young soul, with such talent and intelligence. _She_ is our future.”  
  
Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement and said softly, “Indeed.”  
  
He happened to catch Hermione's eye in that moment and she gave the three of them a suspicious look.  
  
 _Are you talking about me?_

Her thoughts barged into his mind and he looked away. _Only good things, naturally._  
  
After dinner and an impromptu meeting with Hagrid about the fact that Nettie had been roaming the castle again, Severus was finally free to visit the Potions work room. She was already there when he arrived, though she did not turn around when she heard the charmed bell announce his presence.  
  
“Finally,” she said, slowly stirring her potion in preparation for the brew. “I thought you weren't coming.”  
  
He walked up behind her and gently leaned into her back, placed a hand over hers, and took the stirring rod from her, putting it lightly on its rest.  
  
“I hope you're not about to start something we can't finish,” she said breathlessly, turning her hand to look at him out of the corner of her eye. He said nothing, but began rubbing her shoulders. He removed the clip that held her hair up and began massaging her scalp and neck.  
  
“Oh, Merlin, that feels good... how did you know my head was aching?”  
  
“Your thoughts become... brittle. And you become uncharacteristically terse.”  
  
After a few minutes, she tensed up and spun around, pulling his head down to kiss him. He responded with fervor, wrapping his arms around her as their minds and bodies warmed and intwined. He ran his hands lightly over her body and she pulled at his shoulders until he grabbed her waist and hoisted her up to sit on the work table. She wrapped her legs around his hips and down the back of his thighs, pressing him closer. He sighed and held her tightly, sending his thoughts into her welcoming mind.  
  
Eyes closed, concentrating, he waded into her mind, waves of her desire crashing against his own. He consciously intensified the cadence, synchronizing their thoughts into a growing tidal wave that threatened to overtake him. He was vaguely aware of a satisfied cry escaping her lips as his mind began to give itself over to the pleasure of the moment.  
  
 _Stop!_  
  
She eased her mind away cautiously and he felt sudden pain echoing between them. Severus reeled, on the edge of a precipice, pulling himself back to reality. She was wincing at him with squinted eyes.  
  
“That was... incredible,” she whispered, “But my headache is now debilitating. I feel like I've been hit in the head with a hatchet a few times. Er, overstimulation, perhaps?”  
  
“I'll be right back,” he said. “Try to clear your mind.”  
  
He went to his work room and grabbed a dose of fresh Headache Potion, quickly occluding and calming his mind on the way. Returning a few minutes later, he unstoppered it and held it to her lips.  
  
“Drink all of it,” he said, and she obeyed, shivering as the cooling effect of the potion hit her.  
  
“You have about an hour before it will make you too drowsy to work,” he said.  
  
“I know,” she sighed. “I suppose we should get started, then, though I've never wanted to brew a potion less than at this moment! God, that was... how did you know that was even possible?”  
  
“Pleasure comes from the mind. The body is the conduit, not the source. Think of it as... wandless magic.”


	23. Tensions and Suggestions

Hermione finished her work just as the Headache Potion she had taken began to make her eyelids heavy and her mind sluggish. Severus watched her from the other side of the table, ready to jump in and help control the damage should anything have gone wrong.  
  
“Well, that's done,” she said, sighing. “Only three more left – I can hardly believe it. Soon all I will have left to do is write up my research."  
  
“Indeed,” he said, neither of them moving from their places. “How is your head feeling?”  
  
Hermione rubbed her temples. “Still a bit achy. Fuzzy. Tired.”  
  
She walked over to him. “Earlier, that was... a most interesting way to use Legilimency. Have you... done that to anyone before?"  
  
Severus looked down at her from his where he stood reclined against the shelf, arms folded, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt pushed up to his elbows. He shook his head slowly, and a smirk grew on his face.

Drunk with the side effects of the strong Headache Potion, Hermione felt a dizzy heat rise in her body at the sight of the long, lean lines of his body revealed by his attire, sans his usual sweeping black robe. She had been admiring his exposed forearms and long-fingered hands as she worked earlier that evening. His hands were rough with callouses, yet graceful when they worked, with an economy of movement learned from years of brewing.

"How long have you been planning it, then?" she wondered. She resisted the urge to pull him down for another kiss.  
  
“There was no plan, just an idea of what might be possible,” he said, unfolding himself at last and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him.  
  
“It was lovely, but I think it's made the wait that much worse,” Hermione said. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, fighting exhaustion.  
  
He released his hold on her. “Go to bed, before I'm forced to carry you out of here.”  
  
Hermione yawned as she said, “Maybe Ginny was right about putting a bed down here... it's so very _far_ to Gryffindor tower.”  
  
“Goodnight, Hermione.” He gave her a small push and watched her go, his eyes sending chills down her spine.  
  
Her dreams that night were vivid and many.  
  
Hermione had been doing a decent job of remaining collected in his presence, but now that she knew what was possible using only the power of their minds she found it far more difficult. If he happened to look at her in the great hall or in the corridors she had to avert her eyes and fight the quick blush that wanted to rise in her cheeks. It did not help that he found it amusing to tease her while she was with her friends. One Sunday morning at breakfast he caught her watching him and suddenly she was shown the image of their last moments together in the tunnel.  
  
 _A nearby sconce bathed her features in warm light before he closed his eyes and kissed her, enjoying the way she pressed into him as she craned her neck back to meet his lips._  
  
Hermione warmed with both embarrassment and desire as her thoughts were hijacked by the man wearing a devilish smirk across the room. She responded in kind, this time with a fantasy rather than a memory.  
  
 _“Hello, Professor,” she said, walking up to where he sat at his desk, turning his chair around and kissing him as she straddled his lap._  
  
Hermione stopped there, seeing him shift position in his chair, breaking off their eye contact.  
  
“Hermione, what's wrong?” Ginny asked, her eyes following the direction of Hermione's gaze.  
  
“Were you staring at Professor Snape just now?”   
  
“Sorry... what?” asked Hermione, trying to think of a reply.  
  
“Just now, it looked like you and Snape were, er, having a moment,” said Ginny, giggling.  
  
Hermione laughed. “Right, well, you've found us out then... Merlin, Ginny, I was looking at Hagrid, who if you haven't noticed, has just walked in with a panther on his shoulder.”  
  
Ginny, Harry, Neville, and Luna were sufficiently distracted by Nettie's appearance in the great hall. Hermione was able to discreetly catch Severus' eye once more.  
  
 _Enjoy that?_ she thought.  
  
He responded by raising an eyebrow and looking away. However, soon Hermione sensed his mind reaching for hers, bringing with it a familiar pulsing warmth that quickly took over her body. She stood up suddenly, drawing the attention of her friends once again.  
  
“I – uh – have to go... do Potions work.”  
  
She fled, shooting a flustered glare at Severus as she went. Hiding in her rooms lest her friends notice that she was not in the Potions work room, Hermione decided it was time for a leisurely bath. The next morning at breakfast she resolutely refused to look at him and kept her mind guarded. She was not keen on arriving at her apprenticeship in such a state as she had left the great hall the day before.  
  
Hermione's apprenticeship was going well. Alan Petroski, the Apothecary, was a wizened, white-haired wizard, deep-voiced yet soft-spoken. He was surprisingly witty. Mr. Petroski was even taller than Severus and almost comically thin, with large, thick hands that looked out of place at the ends of his wiry arms. His silvery-white hair was kept very short and neat. He wore small wire-rimmed spectacles and loose-fitting shirts that looked like they belonged to a much wider man. He had a long, smooth face, and a slightly crooked nose.  
  
Mr. Petroski was wonderful to work with – his calm, professional demeanor rarely faltered, even in the face of a rude clients or disgruntled and demanding customers. So understated was his wit, that often he would disparage such customers to their faces, in such a pleasant and friendly manner that they never suspected he was anything but happy to serve them. Hermione often had to turn around or leave the counter to keep from laughing in such instances.  
  
It had taken a few weeks before Hermione was assured that he actually liked her, but it soon became clear that he trusted her and enjoyed having her in his shop. Most mornings he would leave her alone to handle customers while he brewed, and after a while he would send her to the work room with a list of simple potions and keep the front himself. He was not a great conversationalist, despite his skill with customers, but when he did speak with Hermione she a learned a great deal from his expertise.  
  
“So, do you still think you want to work as an Apothecary?” he asked that morning, after Mrs. Gordon, one of his most obnoxious customers, left with her ailing mother's six healing potions.  
  
“Perhaps,” said Hermione, restocking the seventeen vials Mrs. Gordon had insisted on inspecting before selecting and making a purchase. The witch believed that she could tell the potency of each brew by holding it up to the light and swirling it for a few minutes. Mr. Petroski found this most amusing, and would even encourage her to go over to the window for the best lighting to complete her task, giving her nonsensical advice to make sure she swirled them at least twenty times in each direction before comparing them.  
  
Hermione would have liked Mr. Petroski in any case, but it helped that he had known Severus for years and sometimes told her little tidbits about him that few others would know. The first time he talked of Severus, he had asked her whether her former Potions professor still insisted on hanging his long hair over his cauldron instead of tying it back or cutting it off like a sensible person. Hermione had laughed and told him that she wouldn't be surprised if Professor Snape was resolutely opposed to the look of a ponytail, but it was likely just that he couldn't be bothered to care about the state of his hair.  
  
“He was my apprentice, too, you know,” Petroski had said. “Though he was not as young as you, and he was already teaching then. Dumbledore always did things as he pleased. I suppose he needed Severus at Hogwarts for other reasons.”  
  
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Hermione.  
  
“Severus was far more talented than you,” he said, a slight twinkle in his eye that told her he was teasing, “but you are far more useful as an apprentice. I couldn't expect him to produce anything in a timely manner back then, but I'll be damned if he didn't improve on a few of my formulas. If you haven't noticed, that's his handwriting scribbled all over the Extra Strength Headache Potion you just made.”  
  
Hermione found that she was staring at Petroski as she remembered the conversation. He was now meticulously straightening the potions she had just put away. He was particular about the straightness of the rows, though she supposed it might just be a habit borne out of boredom when the shop was slow rather than a critique of her less precise manner of stocking shelves.  
  
“I don't know if I could handle the Mrs. Gordon's as well as you do,” she said, “but I think I would like to have my own shop one day.”  
  
Petroski fiddled with another vial.  
  
“One day, perhaps you shall,” he said without looking at her. “But first, I think you may be destined for greater things. Surely you're not going to hide away making pain relief potions in a smelly apothecary lab immediately upon graduating? You talk so animatedly about Margaret White and her mother. I think you may have an interest in activism, Miss Granger. The time is ripe for change, is it not?”  
  
Hermione considered this suggestion for a moment.  
  
“I hardly know what I would do to affect change. I am not a great speaker or an inspirational writer. I like my research and my potions – they don't expect me to come up with a brilliant turn of phase or to persuade others, only to understand how things work. That speech I had to give to the first years nearly killed me, I was so nervous and flustered. I think my face was ten shades of red before I was done.”  
  
“Perhaps the Whites need just your sort of help,” he said. “Is there no research, no projects, or other such work to be done? I suspect you could find some way to help the cause.”  
  
Hermione smiled. “I _would_ like that... you're right, there must be something I could do.”  
  
Mr. Petroski came over and set a jar on the counter in front of her.  
  
“Take this to the back and check its shelf life, it has been left unlabeled. And Miss Granger, know that I fully support your desire to become an Apothecary. You are well-prepared for the job. I also support your interest in furthering Muggle-born rights. I myself am of purely magical ancestry, but I know all too well the dangers of the stunted and fearful thinking that has been perpetuated by blood purists. I would so love to see all traces of such beliefs finally put to rest.”  
  
Hermione nodded, speechless at his heartfelt tone. She smiled warmly as she said, “I'll, uh, be right back with this.”  
  
While she was in the back room, Hermione heard the shop's bell announce another customer. It must have been a wizard, for the low voices of the visitor and Mr. Petroski as they started a conversation were unintelligible and deep-pitched. She was always able to hear the higher voices of witches, many of which tended to speak much louder than Petroski, drowning him out and piercing through the shop into the back room.  
  
Hermione quickly labeled the jar of salve and walked back out to the front counter, only to see Severus leaning on the other side of it talking to Mr. Petroski. His eyes found hers immediately, crinkling ever so slightly with amusement at her obvious surprise.  
  
“Hello, Professor,” she said, nearly missing the counter in her attempt to set the jar down without looking.  
  
“Miss Granger,” he intoned. She could sense his enjoyment at her struggle to act normally upon seeing him in Mr. Petroski's shop for the first time since she began her apprenticeship.  
  
“It seems you have won Alan over,” he said. “I think he will hate to let you go at the end of the semester.”  
  
“And I will hate to leave,” she said, smiling. “What brings you here this morning? Surely you're not here to chat about me.”  
  
Mr. Petroski studied her over the top of his glasses. “I invited Severus to lunch, since it has been some years since we've spoken at length in person. Perhaps you would like to join us? If the headmaster will give you permission to delay your return to Hogwarts this afternoon...”  
  
Hermione and Petroski looked at Severus for approval. He inclined his head. “That can be arranged.”  
  
Mr. Petroski flipped the sign on the door to 'closed for lunch' and the three of them set out together. Hermione listened as the two wizards caught up on the past few years. It seemed that Severus had been close to Alan Petroski in the years between the disappearance of Voldemort and Harry's arrival at Hogwarts. They seemed to have picked up where they had left off, rekindling the friendship when Hermione asked for an apprenticeship assignment.   
  
“I have not been disappointed,” said Petroski. “Miss Granger, you have been the most useful apprentice I've yet had the privilege to teach. You are quite an intuitive assistant, a skilled brewer, and good with the customers. Severus, while brilliant in the lab, used to hide from the public, you see.”  
  
Severus smiled and raised his mug to his mouth.   
  
“It seemed he was always in the middle of a delicate potion when there was someone at the front counter, or else he had accidentally made a mess that needed cleaned up immediately,” explained Petroski.  
  
Hermione grinned. “Professor Snape have a Potions _accident_? Create messes on purpose? I don't think I've ever seen him spill or drop a single thing while working!”  
  
Petroski's eyes moved from Hermione to Severus and back again. “Yes, I suppose you've seen his work in class as well as in the lab."  
  
Hermione had to Apparate back to the castle before she missed her Herbology class that afternoon. Severus wrote her a note for late admittance to the grounds, since he would be staying behind to have a pint with Petroski before ending their lunch hour.  
  
“Thank you for lunch, Mr. Petroski,” she said, for he had treated the three of them.  
  
“You're welcome. It was a pleasure to have you with us.”  
  
“See you tomorrow. Professor...”  
  
Severus pressed the note into her hand as she turned to him.

“Do not forget to check on your cold brew potion before class,” he reminded her needlessly. “You may need to begin the warming process before evening.”  
  
“Uh, thanks, I had planned on it... I should have plenty of time if I leave now," she said.  
  
“Goodbye, Miss Granger,” he said, eyes bringing the rest of his message. _Until this evening._  
  
“Goodbye, Professor, Mr. Petroski.” She smiled at them and went on her way.  
  
Severus and Petroski made a habit of meeting for lunch once a week for the rest of the year, and often Hermione would join them. She was hesitant to tell her friends where she was for those lunches but Severus encouraged her to tell the truth, since there was not anything inappropriate to hide. Her friends were jealous that her apprenticeship got her out of the castle, though of course Ron could not understand why she would want to have lunch with Snape and another old wizard.  
  
One day, as the apprenticeship was drawing near its end, Petroski was oddly quiet during their meal. He ate quickly and listened as Severus and Hermione told him about the last potion to be brewed for her project. Placing some money on the table, he leaned forward and put one of his large, weather hands on top of one of each of theirs.  
  
“I'm afraid I have some business to take care of today before I open the shop back up, so I will leave you two to finish your meal together. This is my little going away gift to you,” he said, looking at Hermione. Then to Severus, he said, “And to you, a little push in the right direction. Enjoy the rest of your day.”  
  
He took in their astonished faces without so much as a blink and said, “Miss Granger, I shall see you tomorrow.”  
  
He then gave them a knowing look and left with a bit of a spring in his step.  
  
“Well, that's... I... do you think he _knows_?” Hermione asked.   
  
“He knows enough to suspect what we have already discovered,” said Severus. “Alan is an alarmingly perceptive wizard. He has clearly noticed... an attraction.”  
  
Hermione glanced at the approaching waitress and whispered, “And he's encouraging it? Now?”  
  
Severus paid for their meal, and when the waitress was gone, replied, “Alan is not one to care whether something is considered inappropriate or unconventional, so long as it is right in his mind."  
  
“So... we can trust him not to tell anyone?”  
  
“I believe so.” He shifted his legs under the table. “We should go. We wouldn't want to risk the lunch crowd coming in and catching us alone together.”  
  
They walked out and Apparated back to the castle.  
  
“I can't believe that just happened,” said Hermione, still astonished.   
  
Severus opened the castle gate and they walked up together. Halfway there, Hermione stopped.  
  
“The last potion is tonight,” she said. “Then we'll hardly have an excuse to see one another until the year is over. I'll be busy with my paper, the exams, and the N.E.W.T.s, not to mention head girl duties and tutoring Draco.”  
  
“It will be a trying time,” he acknowledged. Hermione sighed, somewhat frustrated at his calm acceptance of the long wait.  
  
“Yet,” he said moments later, “we shall have our moments, if you can find time to tear yourself away from the library.”  
  
That night, she completed her Potions work as soon as Severus arrived in the tunnel, and after cleaning up the work table they ended up snogging on it, exploring the limits of Legilimency to enhance the experience. Hermione's Legilimency skills were improving greatly. The next morning at the Apothecary, Mr. Petroski said nothing about lunch the day before. It was not until she was getting ready to leave for the day that his curiosity finally got the best of him.  
  
“So did you and Severus have a nice chat without me yesterday?” he asked.   
  
Hermione laughed awkwardly. “Ah, yes... we talked about you, if you must know. Severus said you are both insightful and discreet.”  
  
His blue eyes twinkled as he said, “Severus, is it? Well, I hope I have not seen the last of you after this week, Miss Granger. You are a remarkable young women and deserving of every good thing that comes your way in life. Severus, too, has many times over earned the right to some happiness. I wish you the best, wherever life takes you.”  
  
They did not mention the subject again, and Hermione was truly sorry to say goodbye to him at the end of the week. She promised to visit once in a while for lunch after she graduated.  
  
Hermione was correct about her free time becoming scarce. In the following weeks, she and Severus rarely got any time together. They took to teasing one another mercilessly with their thoughts, at every opportunity. It became a game for one to try and get the other to break composure and leave the vicinity. Hermione was forced to fake illness, forgotten assignments, 'female problems', head girl duties, and meetings with professors in order to suddenly excuse herself from her friends. Her time with Draco was the one place she was safe from such teasing, since they had realized that Draco was far more observant than her other friends.  
  
Tracey Davis sometimes joined Hermione and Draco in the library. Tracey had never been close to Draco, but now that Hermione had convinced her to give him a chance the two of them were often heard engaging in sarcastic banter. One evening, Draco finished his work long before Hermione and Tracey were ready to turn in for the night. He had stayed with them, interrupting Hermione with questions about her Potions research, until at last she ordered him to leave so that she could get some work done. After he was gone, Tracey gave her a questioning look.  
  
“Hermione, do you fancy Draco Malfoy?”  
  
Hermione laughed. “No, not at all! Why would you think that?”  
  
“Well, you spend a lot of time together.”  
  
“I'm his tutor! I get paid to spend time with him, remember? Besides, I think I can consider him a friend now, and I often spend time with my friends... even if it is while studying.”  
  
Tracey held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, I believe you... but I think Draco might fancy _you._ ”  
  
Hermione shook her head. “I don't think so...”  
  
A few moments passed during which the only sound was the turning of the pages in Tracey's book.  
  
“What makes you think Draco fancies me?” Hermione finally asked.  
  
Tracey glanced up. “He's very interested in your work. He sits closer to you than is necessary. When you're reading, sometimes he watches you instead of doing his own work.”  
  
Hermione felt a bit of alarm tighten her chest. “Oh... no, I hope you're not right.”  
  
Tracey decided to get it out in the open the next time they were all together, saying to Draco and Hermione, “So, are you two a couple, or what? You can let me know if you'd rather I go, so you can start snogging.”  
  
Hermione had glared at her. Draco had laughed.  
  
“No, you've gotten it all wrong,” he said. “She prefers older men.”  
  
“Oh, really?” Hermione had asked. “Just how do _you_ know what kind of man I prefer?”  
  
Draco smirked. “Well, I remember you falling over yourself to talk to Lockhart, then you had that thing with Krum a few years ago, and I hear you've been on and off with a former Gryffindor Quidditch player this year. How long ago did he graduate?  
  
“Never mind that,” said Hermione, smacking his arm with the thick book in her hand. “It's none of your business. Get to studying!”  
  
While Tracey had been able to accept Draco's friendship, Harry and Ginny were not so quick to forgive. Ginny was especially skeptical about Hermione's evaluation of him as reformed. Harry, surprisingly, seemed more willing to believe Hermione.  
  
“I mean, he still not exactly a ray of sunshine, but he's not awful, and he hasn't said anything offensive since I started tutoring him. People can be horrible as children and change,” said Hermione to Harry. “I mean, there's no way he could have started out kind and open-minded with parents like his, is there?”  
  
“I know people _can_ change,” said Harry. “I just don't know that I believe Malfoy has so quickly. My cousin Dudley has greatly improved in the past year, though... so I suppose anything's possible.”  
  
They were eating lunch with Neville and Luna, who were listening to the conversation with interest.  
  
“Here comes Draco now,” said Luna, her large round eyes fixing on a point behind Hermione.  
  
“Speak of the devil,” muttered Ginny.  
  
Draco plopped down beside Hermione, sitting backwards on the bench. “Hello, Granger. I won't be able to study this evening. Snape wants me to demonstrate some potions for him. He wanted me to tell you that you're welcome to come down to the advanced classroom and observe. Apparently, he wants to set up the room like a N.E.W.T.s panel and have the both of you score me as I work.”  
  
Hermione nodded. “Okay. I'll be there.”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes and said, “You really do love extra work, don't you? What are you going to do when there's no more school?”  
  
She shrugged and said, “I'm getting paid to tutor you, so this is just part of the job. Also, it sounds fun to pretend to be a N.E.W.T.s evaluator. I hope you're ready. Professor Snape and I won't be easy to impress.”  
  
Draco stood. “Later, then, Granger. Potter, did you know your mouth is hanging open like that? You look like a Dropfish.”  
  
With that he was gone, leaving Hermione to hide a smile as Harry snapped his mouth shut and frowned.  
  
“What's wrong, Harry?” asked Hermione.  
  
“I just never thought I'd see one of my best friends volunteer to spend an evening with Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy. Everything I've ever known to be true was a lie. Snape isn't really an evil old bat. Malfoy has stopped caring about blood purity and how much money his friends have...”  
  
Hermione smiled.  
  
“Well, Harry, it's all thanks to you for getting rid of Voldemort. And perhaps because we saved Malfoy's arse from the Fiendfyre last year after one of his so-called friends almost killed him.”  
  
Harry nodded slightly, looking off into the distance.  
  
“Yeah. Maybe,” he said.  
  
Hermione, Severus, and Draco met in the dungeons that evening, and Hermione loved every minute of the task. She and Severus kept a conversation going in their minds throughout Draco's mock examination. There were a few times Hermione had to conceal a laugh or a smile from Draco's notice, but only once did he seem to catch her.  
  
As they left the room upon finishing and cleaning up, Margaret White approached them.  
  
“Ah, Severus and Hermione! I was hoping to catch you before you retired for the evening. Hello, Mr. Malfoy... how did it go?”  
  
“He will pass easily,” said Severus. “You may go, Draco, well done. What did you need of me, Margaret?”  
  
“I just received a letter from Mother demanding that I invite you and Miss Granger to our house for a meal. I don't know if you're aware, Severus, but Hermione and I are quite good friends now, and I've told Mother what a shining example of Muggle-born success she has become, not to mention her brilliant work in Potions this year.”  
  
Draco was walking slowly away, and stopped briefly to glance over his shoulder at the three of them before rounding the corner.  
  
“She is determined to talk to Hermione about growing up as a Muggle-born under the second rise of Voldemort – if that's all right with you, dear,” she said to Hermione. “Also, there are to be a few other guests of interest to the cause, and Mother hopes to introduce you. Would you both be interested?”  
  
Hermione smiled. “I would love to come,” she said. “I've been dying to meet your mother.”  
  
“Severus?”  
  
“I have no objection,” he said. “When is it to be held?”  
  
“We thought in a few weeks, the Saturday evening after exam week, before the N.E.W.T.s... if that suits you both.”  
  
Hermione and Severus gave her their agreement, and the date was set. Margaret walked back upstairs with Severus, Hermione parting ways with them at the top of the first staircase. She was excited about the idea of dining at the White's with Severus - as an equal, all but officially a graduate, fully of age, and ready to find her place in the magical world.


	24. Suspicions and Appeals

Severus was walking through the main corridor toward the great hall when Draco suddenly appeared at his side.  
  
“Professor Snape,” he said, out of breath, as if he had been running to catch up.  
  
“Yes, Draco?”  
  
“May I come by your office later? To talk?” Draco asked.   
  
Severus stopped and looked at the pale young man beside him. “Of course. See me after your Charms class. I shall be in my office. The password is... 'hummingbird'.”  
  
“Thanks. See you then,” Draco said, and hurried away, leaving Severus to wonder what he wanted to talk about. While Draco had not been actively avoiding Severus since returning to classes, he was still not forthcoming with any details about his life. Severus made sure he was in his office when Draco got out of class that afternoon.   
  
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Draco?” asked Severus as soon as he saw Draco in the doorway. Draco walked in and took a seat in front of Severus' desk.  
  
"I'd like your opinion on something, uh... personal."  
  
Severus eyed him suspiciously. The boy wore an expression that made him look like the cat that got the cream - but why?  
  
"Go on,” he prompted.  
  
"You seem to know Granger well these days," said Draco. "I'd like some advice about her."  
  
"What kind of advice would you need in regard to Hermione Granger?" Severus asked.  
  
"She's been acting differently lately, and I couldn't help but notice... it's always when you're around," Draco said.   
  
Severus carefully kept his face expressionless.  
  
"She acts _differently_ when I'm around,” he repeated slowly. “In what way?"  
  
"I know she's using Occlumency. I might not be a Legilimens, but I know the signs of someone who is occluding their mind. Whenever you come around she is occluding."  
  
Severus frowned and said, "You think I should be worried about her practice of Occlumency? I believe you of all people, Draco, can understand why she might occlude her mind in my presence. She knows I am Legilimens, capable of discerning the direction of her thoughts."  
  
"Yes, but why doesn't she want you to know what she's thinking?" Draco said slowly.  
  
"If you were a female student would you want the headmaster to know your thoughts?" Severus asked in response.

"I think she fancies you," Draco finally said bluntly.   
  
The two of them sat in silence for a moment. Draco smirked a little but quickly hid it.  
  
"This is the urgent matter which you have decided is worth wasting my time this afternoon?” Severus asked. “You think Miss Granger fancies me. What exactly do you expect me to do with this information?"  
  
"Oh, I have more theories," said Draco. "You see, if _I've_ been able to figure out that she fancies you, it must have occurred to _you_ already."  
  
Severus contemplated his answer for a moment before he said, "I have noticed Miss Granger's... interest. However, I see no reason why that should concern you, Draco. I find it strange that you would come to me about such a thing. I assure you, it is not the first time a student has fancied a professor in the history of Hogwarts."  
  
"Yes, but it would be a problem if...” Draco cleared his throat. “I was thinking of asking her out."  
  
Severus felt his annoyance with the boy rise exponentially. "So, you actually came here to tell me that you fancy Miss Granger?"  
  
"Sure. Do you... have a problem with that?" Draco asked, in a positively cautious tone.  
  
"Why would I have a problem with that?" Severus asked sharply. "Are you clumsily trying to ask me for dating advice, Draco? As you already know, I can't to advise you in that area. Espionage was my whole purpose in life until very recently, and as you said before, you were under the impression I was pining for your mother all these years."  
  
"I thought you might have a problem with it if you fancied her back," said Draco smugly.  
  
Another long silence followed that statement, during which he crossed his arms and held Severus' gaze.  
  
"Accusing me of inappropriate behavior toward a student, Draco?” Severus asked in a low, calm tone. “To what end? A threat? I assure you, there is nothing between Miss Granger and myself that could be found to be inappropriate.”  
  
"I'm not trying to threaten you. I just wanted to know if I should forget it, since she obviously has it bad for you, and during my practice N.E.W.T.s in the Potions room I felt like I was watching one long inside joke going on between the two of you."  
  
Severus glared at Draco and said, "Regardless of whether or not you intend this accusation to be a threat, if such a thing was suggested outside of this room, you would put both my and Hermione's reputations - and careers - in jeopardy.”  
  
Draco smiled. “Fine, there's nothing _inappropriate_ going on. So, there's no reason I shouldn't go for it with her, then?”  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow and said, “Ask her whatever you wish. It is absurd that we are having this conversation, Draco.”  
  
“I just wanted to avoid making a fool of myself."  
  
Severus continued to glare at the boy. At last, he spoke. “Whatever you do, Draco, for the love of all that is magical and holy, do not tell anyone your theories about her love interests. You would live to regret it.”  
  
Draco laughed and said, “Oh, are you threatening _me_ now?”  
  
“No, I am warning you," said Severus. "Hermione Granger is known to cast a vicious revenge curse, and she has made powerfully great strides in her magical ability this year. Think carefully before you expose any of her secrets.”  
  
Draco stood up and sighed. “I'm not going to _expose her secrets_. Bloody hell."  
  
Severus smirked. “Are we done, Draco?”  
  
“Not quite.” He paused, and then smiled wickedly. “I've noticed you seem to know Potter quite well these days...”  
  
“If this is your idea of a joke - "  
  
“No, I'm serious. You and Potter are friends now," Draco said.   
  
Severus gave Draco a look that signaled the end of his long-suffering indulgence and said, “Get to the point, Draco.”  
  
“Has Potter said anything about me? About trying to talk to me?” Draco asked.  
  
Severus frowned. “He has not. Potter and I are not _friends,_ Draco. He's simply stopped wishing I would die a slow, painful death.”  
  
“I've seen him stop you to talk in the halls," Draco pointed out.  
  
“Yes.” Severus smirked.   
  
Draco smirked as well and said, “So, you're his new Dumbledore? Don't you still hate him?”  
  
Severus studied Draco for a moment and said, “I do not hate Harry Potter... and neither should you.”  
  
Draco shrugged. “We have a lot of history, it's not going to disappear.”  
  
“If I'm not mistaken, Draco, you have more than history... you owe him a life debt," Severus said.   
  
Draco was silent. He said, “What, am I supposed to grovel at his feet now, like the rest of the magical world?”  
  
Severus stood.  
  
“No, Draco. You should thank him, and accept whatever apology he has to offer you graciously. Do not let a life debt to an old enemy make you bitter, as it will if you refuse to be grateful. Often, that is all the magic requires of the bond. If you fail to meet that demand, it will mark your for the rest of your life.”  
  
He ushered Draco out.  
  
“I might add,” he said as they walked, “that while Voldemort was alive, he was able to create a connection to Harry's mind and his moods influenced the boy's thoughts. Potter is much improved now that the Dark influence of a madman is gone. He has... better impulse control.”  
  
Draco stared at him. “Maybe,” he said.

They exited the headmaster's office and parted ways. It would seem that Draco had come to see if he could get anything out of Severus, but whether it was out of curiosity or a real interest in Hermione, Severus could not tell. Severus had given nothing away. Draco knew only what he had already believed with certainty – that Hermione had a crush on her professor. They would have to be careful not to give him any more reason to suspect further involvement.  
  
Exams were in a few days. Hermione barely left the library for meals between classes. Severus took great pleasure in walking through the library at all hours of the day and sneaking up on her. They rarely spoke, at least not out loud. He took care not to visit when Draco was with her, now that the boy was suspicious. Severus found that as each day passed, bringing the end of the year and the dinner party at the Whites' yet nearer, that he was filled with a calm, content anticipation of what was to come. Even the daunting prospect of talking with Hermione about the future of their relationship – namely, what it would look like once the school year was over – could not dampen his spirits. He consciously chose not to think of the other subject they must soon broach. Lily.  
  
Hermione took her exams and worked furiously to complete her Arithmancy project by the end of the week. Professor Vector told Severus it was some of the strongest work she had seen in years. The day of the dinner arrived, and Hermione was not at breakfast or lunch. Without knowing where she was or who might be with her, Severus did not want to risk sending his Patronus to her to find out. Finally, he caught Potter alone in a corridor.  
  
"Potter,” Severus said as he cornered the boy. “Where has Granger been all day?”  
  
"Oh... uh, in the dorm, I suppose,” he said. “We were all up late last night, er, celebrating the end of exams and we slept in. She's with Ginny getting ready for tonight – that fancy dinner at Professor White's house."  
  
"I was unaware that preparation for a meal took so many hours."  
  
Harry laughed a little and said, "Ah, that would be Ginny's fault... er, sir. She learned a new Charms technique that she wants to try on Hermione's hair. Apparently it, uh, takes a while. Something to do with – "  
  
"I am sorry I asked, Potter. Spare me the details."  
  
Silence followed as they stood staring at one another.  
  
"Well," said Harry, inching past him. "I'll be going now."  
  
Severus watched him go, not sure how he felt about what had just happened, but relieved that Hermione was well and would be in attendance at the Whites' that evening.  
  
They would be leaving with Margaret White from the castle gate at seven o'clock. At exactly ten minutes till seven, Severus waited in the front hall for the two women. Margaret appeared within seconds, wearing a smart periwinkle robe and a large emerald pendant, her short sun-bleached hair arranged into a sleeker, straighter version of her usual unkempt bob.  
  
“Good evening, Severus,” she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You are looking dapper this evening.”  
  
Severus' eyes were drawn to the staircase, where Hermione was making her descent. Margaret followed his gaze and turned around.  
  
“Ah, and there's Hermione. Doesn't she look nice in my old dress robe? I think it suits her.”  
  
Hermione was wearing a dark green robe with an intricate black stitched vine and lace pattern that came part of the way down the fitted sleeves. The collar and the hem-length cape that flowed from it over her shoulders and down her back were black as well. A long, delicate gold chain hung from her neck, the round charm that was suspended from it glimmering in the light as she moved. She was well-dressed, but her attire was utterly unremarkable in comparison to the difference Ginny Weasley's charm work had made to her appearance. Hermione was nearly unrecognizable without her voluminous wild curls.  
  
Her head was now covered in a sleek, shimmering cascade of dramatic waves that framed her face closely and then fell over her shoulders and down her back. Luminescence charms enhanced the hairstyle, he was certain, for her face and hair seemed to be bathed in a radiant warm glow that could not have been cast by the wall sconces or the chandelier hanging high above their heads from the vaulted ceiling.  
  
“Hermione, my dear, you look lovely,” said Margaret. “Whatever Ginny Weasley did to your poor head must have taken hours... if you don't mind my saying!”  
  
Hermione smiled nervously. Severus noticed that the charm on her necklace was a lion's head.  
  
“It did. I suppose I like it, but I don't feel like myself – you don't think it's too much?” she asked the older witch.  
  
“No, not at all!” Margaret assured her. “You look beautifully appropriate for the evening.”  
  
 _You are stunning,_ he thought, catching her eye. She received the compliment without blushing, but a tiny smile pulled up one corner of her mouth as she looked away.  
  
“Shall we go, then?” asked Margaret, checking the time. “I really shouldn't show up late to my own party!”  
  
They walked down to the gate and Apparated together. Margaret held out her arm, and soon they popped into the garden at the Whites' house.  
  
“Follow me!” she said happily. “This is going to be a wonderful evening. I think even you will enjoy it, Severus.”  
  
Severus and Hermione walked side by side behind her, stealing glances at one another. Margaret ushered them inside and they joined Miranda and Edwarda, who were wearing blue robes in cobalt and indigo, respectively.  
  
Hermione was immediately whisked to Miranda's side, and the old witch talked to her exclusively as they waited for the rest of the party to arrive. Margaret was a charming hostess, and soon all the dinner guests had been greeted and introduced to one another. All were Muggle-born or half-blood witches and wizards who had become successful on their own or married into influential families.  
  
Severus and Hermione were seated beside one another. Hermione was the guest of honor, also seated by Miranda. Margaret and Edwarda sat the table across from them.  
  
 _I'm so nervous!_ Hermione thought. _Everyone is staring at us._  
  
Severus was listening to one of Edwarda's stories about growing up with Miranda. He carefully focused his mind to keep from breaking face.  
  
 _Indeed, we are easily the most famous people in the room after the hosts,_ he thought.  
  
 _I hate it,_ she replied.  
  
She was then addressed once more by Miranda, who pulled Margaret into the conversation as well. Severus was saved from Edwarda's anecdotes by the wizard beside him.  
  
“Severus Snape! May I interrupt for a moment?”  
  
Severus turned to the short, stocky wizard who ran a potions research lab. “Mr. Troxel, I believe it was?”  
  
“Ed Troxel,” he said beaming, showing a wide straight-toothed smile. “Of T&G Potions Research. It's an honor to have a meal with you, Professor Snape. Though we've never met in person, I have had the pleasure of testing a few of your potions and brewing methods in my time, though it has been years since we've seen anything new from you in the way of Potions research or experimentation. I suppose I now know why! You were too busy saving the world!”  
  
Severus spoke with Troxel at length about various experimental potions in development, at least, the ones Troxel was willing to discuss. After dinner, they moved to sit comfortably around the fire and were plied with drinks by Margaret and a young blonde witch who had been hired to help serve guests and take care of tidying up after them for the evening. It was then that Severus realized the Whites apparently had no house elves.  
  
Hermione was approached by various guests and hardly had a free moment to look at Severus all evening, let alone speak to him. Severus kept to himself, not interested in small talk or prying personal questions. He did, however, find himself praising Hermione to almost anyone who would listen, which was far preferable to chit chat or swapping life stories.  
  
Later, sipping his wine in a corner, Severus fell into a comfortable silence. He had been addressed by various guests throughout the night, all of whom were a bit in awe of him after the post-war publicity. It served him well that his reputation was that of an odd, mysterious, unpleasant recluse – the conversations were kept polite and brief.  
  
 _I've just been offered a job!_  
  
Hermione's thoughts interrupted his thoughts. He looked over to where she stood, shaking Ed Troxel's hand, smiling in response to his wide grin. As Troxel moved on to speak to Margaret, Hermione met his eyes, surprise and happiness radiating from her own.   
  
_Well done,_ he thought.  
  
Troxel and another couple left and the rest said their goodbyes. Edwarda and Miranda stood close together near the door to the hall, with Margaret next to them a few steps away. Severus edged over to Hermione.  
  
“Shall we go? Or do you wish to try for a few more job offers before the night is over?” he asked.  
  
She handed her empty glass to the young blonde witch, who took Severus' as well and disappeared into the dining room.  
  
“Let's go,” said Hermione.  
  
They made their way over to the hosts and Hermione was not able to get away without a hug from Margaret. The witch knew better than to try for one with Severus, though, and simply placed a hand on his arm.  
  
“Thank you for coming, Severus.”  
  
“Thank you... for a pleasant evening,” he replied. “I will see you Monday.”  
  
They said their goodbyes to Miranda, who took the opportunity to ask if whether they would be joining the cause for Muggle-born rights, acceptance, and visibility in the magical world. Both Hermione and Severus agreed they would without making any specific promises. Once outside with the front door closed firmly behind them, Severus offered Hermione his arm. She took it and involuntarily braced herself for Apparition. Instead, Severus walked down the front steps, pulling her along with him toward the garden. They passed under a vine-covered arbor and Severus suddenly turned to run a hand through her hair and steal a kiss.  
  
“Not here!” she protested after a moment, squeezing his arm. He obliged and Apparated them to the castle gate. She reluctantly let go of his arm after a moment and they started the walk back to the castle. As they walked past a particular spot in the woods, Severus took her hand.  
  
“This way,” he said, leading her off into the dark.  
  
“Where are we going?” Hermione soon asked, pointlessly, as they were already there. “Oh... I had no idea this was here!”  
  
They had entered a small clearing in the forest, where there sat an old worn bench that looked like it had been ripped from a quaint Muggle church. A spattering of tiny blue flowers covered the ground between the trees. Severus sat down and motioned for her to join him. She responded by practically sitting in his lap, plopping down on the bench and throwing her legs across his. Severus allowed her to pull him into a kiss and leaned forward. She leaned back until after a while Severus became painfully conscious that he was resting his elbow on a hard wooden bench and Hermione was laying down with her uncharacteristically silky waves of hair splayed out around her head, cascading over the edge of the seat.  
  
“I would so like,” he whispered, his heart picking up pace as he voiced the sentiment that had just come to mind, “to take that beautiful dress robe off of you.”  
  
He watched her eyelids fall slightly and a faint smile appear on her lips as her mind warmed and expanded into his. As he kissed her once more, he was lost in the waves of her desire mingling with his own thoughts. Flashes of memories of him surfaced, and the image that soon filled his mind was one of a recent bath, his name on her lips, her hand working to bring the building tension in her body to a release. He pushed it from his mind. As much as he wanted to give in to the desire to touch more of her welcoming body, he was not yet free to do so. He ran a hand over the lace on the shoulder of her robe and down to pick up the round lion charm lying on her chest.  
  
“A gift from Margaret as well?”  
  
Hermione shook her head, her cheeks still pink. “No, actually it's from my parents. I've had it since my first year. I'm just not one to wear jewelry.”  
  
She sat up.  
  
“Why is this here?” she asked, gesturing to the bench.  
  
“I do not know,” he said.  
  
“How did you find it?”  
  
Severus considered how much of the story he wished to tell her. “I once found myself in need of a place to hide, and the forest seemed the best place at the time. I ran into this clearing and nearly tripped over the bench.”  
  
Hermione was silent for a moment and then said, “It's going to bother me forever, not knowing who put it here or why.”  
  
“Perhaps an enterprising couple of years past,” he said. “Or a past headmaster who needed a solitary escape.”  
  
“Do you ever come out here to escape the castle?” she asked.  
  
“Not anymore,” he admitted.


	25. Recapitulation

Hermione woke up the morning after dinner at the Whites' feeling that she could not wait another moment to be with Severus. Ginny had insisted on trying a new hairstyle on Hermione the night before, and Margaret White had insisted on gifting her a dress robe, saying that it was too pretty to sit in her closet any longer. Ginny had gasped when she put it on.  
  
“Merlin, that is a _gorgeous_ vintage robe! Professor White said you could keep it?!”  
  
Hermione nodded. “She insisted on it, actually.”  
  
The dark green robe made Hermione feel glamorous. It was bold and feminine, with a long sweeping black cape and delicate black lace details on the shoulders, around the v-shaped neckline and halfway down the sleeves, which were fitted down to her wrists, where they belled out and were lined with more black fabric and lace. The entire thing was made of smooth, thin silk, and it billowed gently when she moved. Hermione would never have picked anything like it for herself, but she had fallen in love with it upon putting it on. The details seemed just right, and it was not too frilly as she originally thought.  
  
As Ginny set to work on her hair, Hermione levitated a book in front of her face to pass the time. However, Ginny was too much of a talker to let her get away with that for very long.  
  
“Hermione?”  
  
“Mmmm?”  
  
“Do you actually like Draco Malfoy now?”  
  
Hermione flicked her wand at the book and sent it back to its place on her night stand. “Sure, I like him well enough.”  
  
Ginny mumbled the sequence of charms over another small section of hair and then said, “Harry wants to have a proper talk with him soon. Do you think Draco would?”  
  
Hermione considered the question. “Perhaps. I don't really know what he thinks of Harry now."  
  
Ginny worked the charms over another section of hair. “Yeah."  
  
When it was finally time to meet Severus and Margaret that evening, Hermione became nervous. Surely she was not over-dressed, since Margaret had picked out her attire, but she would feel awkward walking through the castle in it. She admired the job Ginny had done on her hair and hugged her.  
  
“I don't know that I'll ever have the patience to let you do it again,” she said. “But it does look amazing. I can't believe that's me!”  
  
Walking down the last staircase into the main corridor, Hermione had seen Severus before he looked up. He was dressed in black, of course, with a crisp white shirt peeking out at his neck and wrists, his robe long and sweeping, with a cape, but in the style of a frock coat with buttons in the front – collared, structured, and well-fitted. It was nice to see him in something other than his traditional black school robes. Hermione admired his tall, dark figure until he finally noticed her, and Margaret White turned around to greet her.  
  
The evening was a great success for the White's, but also for Hermione, who met numerous interesting and influential magical folk who were actively supporting Muggle-born rights and acceptance post-war. There was still much work to be done for the cause, even though the biggest threat had been removed.The best part of the night was after the party was over, when she and Severus walked back to the castle and he showed her the secret secluded spot in the forest not far off the path. Once they made it back to the castle, she left Severus unwillingly and returned to her rooms. She walked over to the bed and reached down to pat Crookshanks, who was curled at the bottom of it sleeping. When another much larger feline head-butted her arm, Hermione jerked her arm away in surprise, heart racing.  
  
“Nettie! What are _you_ doing here?!” she cried in recognition. “Crookshanks, did you let her in?”  
  
Nettie purred and jumped off the bed, rubbing against Hermione's legs. Crookshanks meowed and rolled onto his back, staring at the Hermione as if to ask, 'Can we keep it?'  
  
Hermione shooed Nettie away and went to the loo to change and wash up before bed. She carefully removed her dress and hung it in her closet.  
  
“Now, you two...” she looked at the enormous lump of black and orange fur at the foot of the bed and sighed. “If either one of you attacks my feet tonight, you'll be very sorry!”  
  
Hermione woke up with Crookshanks on her feet and Nettie stretched out beside her warming her back. Memories from the night before warmed her thoughts. It was early and the light coming in the window was still pale and soft.  
  
“Good morning, bed hogs. Now, out with you, Nettie!” Hermione went over and opened the window.  
  
Crookshanks yowled a complaint as Nettie scampered out and slunk across the roof below.  
  
“Oh, hush, you!” said Hermione, closing the window again. “You know she's not supposed to be in the castle.”  
  
Hermione sensed the room grow brighter and turned back to the window. Severus' bat Patronus appeared, and was now hanging from the top of the stone window frame.  
  
 _Meet me in the tunnel after breakfast to pack up the store room for the summer and see that none of your personal supplies are left behind._  
  
Hermione had been avoiding the task, but knew it must be done now, with the N.E.W.T.s at the end of the week and graduation immediately after. She would be too busy studying and packing to remove all traces of her semester in the Potions workroom. At least she would have Severus' company to distract her from the bittersweet feelings that would come with preparing to leave the place she had called home since she was eleven years old.  
  
Ginny and Harry were planning to meet up with members of the Quidditch teams for an all-day tournament in which the teams would be formed of mixed houses. Ginny and Harry would leading competing teams this year. Neville and Luna planned to watch. Hermione told them she would come out later in the afternoon when she was done packing up her lab. She was glad to have a legitimate reason to avoid watching the games all day. While she enjoyed being a spectator every now and then, especially when her friends were on the field, one game was usually the longest she wanted to spend in the stands in one day.  
  
When she arrived in the tunnel Severus was not there yet. She had seen him disappear into his office with McGonagall earlier, and assumed whatever their meeting was about must have taken longer than expected. She began packing her workstation away, arranging everything carefully inside her suitcase, which had been fitted with an Undetectable Extension Charm and a few different weight displacement charms.  
  
It was not long before Hermione felt the reality of the end of the school year weighing on her emotions. Life as she knew it would never be the same. She was leaving the place where both her best and worst memories had been made, where she had met her best friends, defeated a Dark Lord, and lately, fallen in love with the most unexpected person she could have imagined. Even though all signs pointed to life getting better once her time at Hogwarts was over, Hermione could not help feeling that a part of her heart would be ripped out when she no longer called Hogwarts her home.  
  
“What's wrong?"  
  
She had not heard him come in. Severus stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame.  
  
“How long have you been there?” she asked, ignoring his question.  
  
“Long enough to know that you are upset about something,” he prodded.  
  
She sighed. “I was just thinking how sad I am to leave Hogwarts. It has been my only home in the magical world.”  
  
He walked over and inspected her work. “You are nearly finished packing.”  
  
She stood and gestured to the corner of the room. “Just those books left, over there.”  
  
He waved his wand at the shelves and the books flew off, neatly stacked themselves, and fell into the space she had left for them in the suitcase. Hermione looked up at him and sensed that his own mood was uneasy and tense.  
  
“But even though it means leaving Hogwarts, I can't wait. So we can be together.”  
  
He ran his hands over her arms and up to rest on her shoulders, gripping them as he looked at her.  
  
“The time has come to... discuss such matters. Come down to my lab, Hermione.”  
  
There was an old sofa in the corner of his work room, where Hermione assumed he slept at times when working on long-brewing, tedious potions. They sat down together and his sober manner began to make Hermione nervous. He faced her with one arm across the back of the sofa.  
  
“We must determine what our relationship will entail after graduation. I will have to stay one week past the students' departure, as all faculty and staff do. Then I will go home. You will live in London, I presume?” he asked.  
  
Hermione nodded. “Yes. Harry and I will be at Grimmauld Place. Though, he'll hardly be there over the summer if he goes straight into Auror training as he plans. Ah... where do you live?”  
  
Severus' eyes were guarded as he said, “My family home in Cokeworth is where I spend my summers. Though in recent years I spent much of the summer weeks traveling for Albus and back to Hogwarts to assist him. I believe the time has come to sell the house, as I no longer have use for it. As headmaster, I could make Hogwarts my residence or live in Hogsmeade. There is an empty residence owned by the school on the outskirts of town, which has often been rented by professors and their families in the past.”  
  
“Oh,” said Hermione. “So then... your family are not in Cokeworth anymore?”  
  
Severus' eyes seemed to grow darker as he replied, “I have no family to speak of. My mother died years ago, and I never expect to see my father again. Whether or not he has already drank himself to death in some dark corner of the country, I do not care to know. I never knew my mother's family. Those that were not killed in the first war fled the country and have not been seen since. Though they were blood purists, most of them refused to join the Dark Lord's first reign of terror.”  
  
Hermione stared at him. She wanted to know more about his past.  
  
“Was your father a... a cruel man? He was a Muggle, right?” she asked.  
  
His eyes were flat as he said, “He was a jealous, petty alcoholic who hated magic and physically abused my mother as well as myself if I attempted to intervene. Otherwise, he pretended I did not exist.”  
  
“I'm sorry,” Hermione said softly. “Your mother... did she give up magic?”  
  
She reached out and touched his arm. He closed his eyes.  
  
“Now is not the time to talk about my parents, Hermione. Instead, a more pleasant topic must be addressed – your impending graduation and how you want to go about having a relationship once you leave.”  
  
His eyes opened again and he sent such a rich feeling of anticipation into her mind that she thought she would cry.  
  
“I suppose we shall visit one another, wherever we might be. I don't plan to move from Grimmauld Place until at least the end of the summer, since my job doesn't start until the end of July. Harry's offered to let me stay rent-free until then. After that, I don't know if I will stay. It will depend on Harry and Ginny. I, uh, think they will be engaged soon, probably married before the end of the year.”  
  
“Of course,” he muttered to himself.  
  
“Until July, though, I should have the house to myself often. As I said, Harry will be in training late into the evenings, and I expect he will spend a lot of his free time at the Burrow or with Ron and George in Diagon Alley. So you could come to me, if that's, uh, preferable to spending time at your home.”  
  
Severus was silent for a moment.  
  
“That would be the best plan,” he said. “Your residence is in a Muggle neighborhood and there is little chance of us being found out. If you came to the castle or Hogsmeade, we would need to exercise far more caution.”  
  
Hermione nodded. “I agree. Grimmauld Place would be best for now. I suppose you would not want Harry to know yet that we... that we're – ”  
  
“No one can know yet,” he said. “Especially not your friends. Potter might be able to keep his trap shut, but if any of the Weasleys happened to find out...”  
  
“They would _all_ know eventually, and it wouldn't be long before word spread,” Hermione finished for him and sighed. “I know it's too soon, but I hate the idea of sneaking around. How long should we wait before we tell anyone? I mean, assuming you want this to last longer than the summer. I suppose we haven't really talked much about, er, expectations. Is it... too soon?”  
  
He responded, “It is far too soon by any normal measure of a relationship not yet begun; however, seeing as you know my deepest thoughts on the matter and I yours...” he trailed off as she held her breath.  
  
“It is obvious that we both expect this to last far longer than a summer,” he finished quietly, looking into her eyes and letting his feelings wash over her, bathing her in a steady, calm desire that reassured her that he hoped for much more.   
  
He suddenly closed his eyes and said, “You have... changed my life in ways I did not think possible. You are my equal in mind and spirit. I do not say that lightly, but... there are some things you must know. Especially if we are to eventually tell your friends that we are... together.”  
  
He studied her seriously.  
  
“You are well aware of the prophecy that made Harry Potter 'Chosen One.' But Sybill Trelawney gave another prophecy that night, one that was heard only by Dumbledore, which he later related it to me. I first heard it the summer before Harry came to Hogwarts.”  
  
Hermione found herself frowning, wondering nervously what this could have to do with their relationship. Severus took a breath, closed his eyes once more, and he recited the words as if in a trance.  
  
“The Dark Lord’s servant will forsake him, the disloyal one will be saved by a woman’s innocent sacrifice... she his sworn enemy’s companion, she his mind’s equal… and through love for her he will thwart his master, but if he be not with her he will be condemned to a traitor’s fate… and only if she returns his love can he escape the Dark Lord’s curse that binds… the one the Dark Lord trusts will be redeemed by an innocent woman…”  
  
Hermione sat in silence, letting the prophecy sink into her shocked mind. There was a prophecy about Severus and possibly, probably, in all likelihood, herself. Of course it was about her. It mentioned the curse and it said that she had saved him from it, just like had happened. He had known this all along. He had tried to take the curse and force her to leave him, knowing that she was the one who could save him.  
  
“All my life... it seemed clear... that the prophecy was about someone else, someone who has been gone for years. I have been certain since last year that it is actually about you," he said.  
  
She felt tears well up in her eyes as he looked at her, and she reached out to bring his face to hers, resting her forehead on his.  
  
“You...” she started, only to choke on the lump in her throat. “You thought if I loved you I would take the curse and you could escape it. But you wouldn't... you tried to keep me away... you...”  
  
She looked at him, unable to say more for a few moments. “But I broke it... with a kiss,” she said at last. “How?”  
  
“I knew in that moment you would never leave,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I was able to throw off the curse completely. I loved you for your stupid, selfless stubbornness – for doing such a thing after I begged you to leave me and escape the curse."  
  
“The prophecy does not say anything about our future,” he continued. “I remain convinced it refers to a platonic, sacrificial love breaking the curse. Still, from the moment you jumped in front of that curse I began to see you differently, and through Legilimency I witnessed the brilliance of your mind... and now...”  
  
He paused to kiss her before he said, “I ask if you can put up with such a reclusive, sarcastic bastard.” He pulled away and produced a vial from his robes, full of a silvery substance. Memories.  
  
“Go to my office and use the Pensieve that is waiting for you by the desk. After you have seen everything we shall finish this discussion," he said.  
  
A terrible sense of foreboding laced Hermione's confusion. Why did he not just tell her what the memories contained or show her? It must be something so sensitive or terrible that he could not bear to witness her reaction to it.  
  
“You should know,” he said, pressing the vial into her hand, “it is because of you that I am no longer haunted by these memories and... regrets. No matter your answer, I... thank you.”  
  
Eyes wide, she stared down at the vial of memories in her hand.  
  
“Send your Patronus for me when you are ready,” he said, “and I will come to you.”  
  
Hermione walked to the headmaster's office, shaking, hand in her robe pocket turning the vial in her fingers, wondering what it held. She whispered 'hummingbird' to the gargoyle and ascended the spiral stair. The door to the office was open and she could see the Pensieve inside. She walked up to it and dumped the memories in, watching them swirl and separate before she took a breath and dove in.  
  
 _She landed in a small, dingy kitchen. A young boy, about nine or ten years old, sat at a scratched and dented wooden table eating crackers. His black hair was long and stringy, his clothes mismatched and worn. It was Severus as a child. His mother stood in the corner, watching a tiny television, humming absently to herself.  
  
“Mum.”  
  
Severus ate his last cracker.  
  
“Mum!”  
  
Eileen Snape turned around, eyes vacant.  
  
“What is it, Severus?”  
  
“Where's Tobias been?”  
  
“I don't know.”  
  
“Is he coming back?”  
  
“I don't know! Stop asking that. You had better hope he does soon, as we're out of money.”  
  
Severus sighed and narrowed his eyes at her.  
  
“I'm going out to play.”  
  
“Be a good boy,” she said, turning back to the television, which had gone grainy. She carefully adjusted the rabbit ears that sat on top of it, cursing under her breath.  
  
Severus threw his plate in the sink and ran out of the house, onto a lonely street that looked like it was not in a nice part of town. The homes were run down, his own the worst of them all. He walked slowly down the street, kicking at some trash that littered the sidewalk as he went. He ducked off into a side street and walked a block before coming to a house that looked better kept than most in the area. There were flowers out front. He went around the back of the house and stood looking at a window on the second floor.  
  
After a moment of concentration, a few pebbles rose from the ground nearby and tossed themselves at the window. Severus waited. A face appeared in the bottom half of the pane. It was a thin, pale young girl with dark red hair that fell in waves over her shoulders. She grinned and waved, then disappeared. Severus turned and darted away, back from whence he came, past his house, and down to the river next to it, where there was a large willow tree. He walked underneath the thick hanging branches and sat down against the trunk.  
  
Minutes later the young red-headed girl appeared. She, too, was wearing clothes that must have been hand-me-downs, but they were clean, matched, and were not horrendously out of style.  
  
“Hey, Severus,” she said, sitting cross-legged beside him.  
  
“Hey,” he replied glumly.  
  
“What's wrong?”  
  
“Mum thinks Tobias is coming back soon... and she wants him to.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Severus hugged his knees and pulled a wand out of his pocket. It looked well-used, and must have been his mother's, Hermione surmised, as she would have been the only witch he knew before Hogwarts.  
  
“Severus! You're not supposed to have that,” said the girl disapprovingly.“What if somebody magical finds out and your mum gets in trouble?”  
  
Severus shrugged.“They won't. I use it all the time. Mum thinks she threw it away, just like she thinks she threw all her old spell books away. She'll never know.”  
  
“Didn't she tell you wands are dangerous if you don't know how to use them?”  
  
“I know how to use it!” said Severus.“Watch.”  
  
He pointed it at a tiny yellow flower between them and whispered a spell. The flower grew until it was the size of his worn brown shoe that was beside it. He whispered another spell and it shrunk back to its original size.  
  
“Wow,” the girl breathed, her bright, almond-shaped green eyes growing wide.“Tell me how to do it!”  
  
Severus smiled and asked,“I thought wands were too dangerous?”  
  
“Show me, Severus! Please? If I do get chosen for Hogwarts, I want to know something before I go! You have to teach me!”  
  
“Okay. Repeat after me...”_  
  
Hermione gasped as the scene faded and changed. Surely it was not _Lily..._ but of course it was. They had been in the same year at Hogwarts. Severus had been the one responsible for giving the prophecy to Voldemort, ultimately causing her death. They had obviously been friends as children, before ever going to Hogwarts. Her heart beat rapidly as she watched the next scene come together.  
  
 _“James Potter should be expelled! I just caught him hexing poor Ferdinand again, to make his robes tighter. He tripped and fell down an entire flight of stairs!” said Lily, appearing under the branches of the willow, but it must have been the willow near the lake at Hogwarts, because she was wearing school robes. She looked a few years older, perhaps thirteen or fourteen.  
  
“And yet, I'm the evil one,” said Severus, somewhat snippily. Lily rolled her eyes.  
  
“Merlin, don't start that again. I said the stuff you're reading is evil, not that you are! I still think you should stop... some of it it absolutely vile, Severus! How can you read it and not want to vomit?”  
  
“What if we could get Potter and Black expelled?” said Severus, changing the subject. “School would be fun again, and you wouldn't be scared to talk to me in front of the rest of Gryffindor.”  
  
“Severus Snape, I am not scared to talk to you! And I get plenty of grief for it, believe me. James has got everyone in my house on his side, and they all take turns telling me how dangerous you are and that you're probably using me to get information on them so you can plan your next attack on Gryffindor. Why can't you just leave them alone? It's not helping that you taunt them and hex them in the halls.”  
  
“But it's THEM that won't leave ME alone!” he exploded. “I'm just giving them a taste of their own medicine. Or hadn't you noticed? From the day we got here, Potter and his friends have been trying to keep me away from you because I'm in Slytherin and I'm poor!” He spit out the last word bitterly. “They think we are all evil, just because Malfoy and his friends like to talk about blood laws and Dark curses! They don't even know what they're talking about, I've checked! They don't have a clue how half of it even works! When nobody else is around, all they talk about is how much money they've got and where they're going for the holidays with their mums and dads.”  
  
Lily sat down.  
  
“I'm sorry. I hate James Potter, too, but we can't get him expelled by egging him on, it's wrong. Eventually, he and Sirius will almost kill someone, and then Dumbledore will have to get rid of them. I just don't want that person to be you. Please, try to ignore them... for me.”_  
  
The scene faded again, and Hermione's heart was heavy with sadness for the young Severus. She could see now how his life had taken him into the grasp of the Dark Lord. His friendship with Lily had been more involved than she could have ever imagined... and she was finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that Lily had eventually married James Potter if he was as bad as he sounded as a student. The next scene was the memory Harry had once told her about, when he had first realized that his father might not have been the paragon of greatness that everyone – namely Sirius – made him out to be. She was vaguely aware of tears streaming down her face, of her body trembling over the Pensieve as her mind was engulfed in Severus' memories. He called Lily a 'Mudblood', and that was it for the friendship, it seemed. A few brief memories followed of him cornering her at various times, attempting to apologize, to no avail.  
  
 _Severus walked down the street past Lily's house, slowing to peer at it stoically as he went by. He appeared to be a young man now, having reached his full height and grown into his hands and feet. His hair was longer and stringier than it had been in previous memories, reminding Hermione of the little nine year old boy eating crackers at the kitchen table.  
  
His head snapped to the side when movement on the front porch caught his eye. He quickened his pace and rounded the corner, hurrying home to an empty house. Opening the door with a key, he stood in the dark doorway, face blank.  
  
“Severus?”  
  
Lily was standing behind him on the lawn. He did not move and did not speak.  
  
“I... I heard about your mum,” she said. “I'm so sorry.”  
  
She walked up to stand directly behind him.“Are you... alone?”  
  
His shoulders fell slightly.  
  
“Tobias is not here, probably won't be back all summer,” he said emotionlessly.  
  
“Can I... uh... come in?” she asked.  
  
He lit the lights with a flick of his wand and stood aside. She walked in and hugged her arms to her chest as he closed the door.  
  
“Your hair needs a trim,” she said, staring at him. “Have you never done it yourself?”  
  
He shrugged.  
  
“I'm sure I can figure it out, just haven't bothered,” he said.  
  
“If you want... I could do it,” said Lily hesitantly.  
  
He walked into the kitchen and sat down in a rickety-looking dining chair. “Sure.”  
  
Lily followed him.  
  
“Do you have any scissors?” she asked.  
  
He lifted his wand and summoned a pair of dull-looking shears from somewhere across the house. They fell loudly onto the table and Lily reached for them. The yellow light from the dingy ceiling lamp lit Severus' harsh expression from above and made Lily's skin clash with her red hair. She used her wand to sharpen the edges of the blades carefully then set to work, the snip-snip of the scissors the only sound in the room for a few minutes.  
  
“Don't worry, I won't cut it too short,” she said. “I know you like it longer.”  
  
He said nothing for a while.“Doesn't matter anymore.”  
  
She finished her work and gently set the shears down. She hesitated, then quickly ran her fingers through his hair, brushing out the stray pieces and then dusting his shoulders off. He took a sharp breath and grabbed her hand.  
  
“Stop,” he hissed, standing abruptly.  
  
She met his irritated gaze with fierce determination.  
  
“Why, Severus?”  
  
His face twisted with emotion.  
  
“Get out, Lily.”  
  
“No!”  
  
He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her roughly to him.“You are cruel to tease me. You know how I feel... but you have barely spoken a word to me all year and – ”  
  
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He made a pained sound, like a cry, and embraced her.  
  
“Let's get out of here,” she said, and Apparated them to her bedroom. They fell to her bed and commenced snogging so passionately that Hermione felt her stomach turn with a tinge of jealousy. She reminded herself that she had not even been born yet and felt a bit better.  
  
“Oh... stop... stop," said Lily.  
  
Severus froze and then sat up, a dark silent shape in the moonlight.  
  
“I can't... we can't, Severus. You haven't changed. You won't, not even for me. And I'm just... not ready, anyway.”  
  
He was still silent and got up off the bed, walking to the window. Lily went to stand by him, and opened it to the roof.  
  
“Come out with me,” she pleaded. “There's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight.”  
  
He scoffed. “As if we could see any of it in town.”  
  
She shrugged and crawled out onto the roof, wrapping a blanket around herself. He finally gave in a joined her.  
  
“I don't care if we can't see the shooting stars, I like looking at the regular ones, too,” she said.  
  
He sat beside her, leaving a space between them. They stayed that way, silent, for a long time, neither daring to look at the other.  
  
“Your hair looks better,” she said. “I only took off a bit – I do like it long.”  
  
“I know,” he said, standing. “It looks all right. Goodbye, Lily.”  
  
He Apparated home and sat at the table, turning the scissors in his hands._  
  
Once more, the scene changed, and Hermione wondered how much more there was to the story of Severus Snape and Lily Evans.  
  
 _Severus was once again returning home at night, unlocking the front door to a darkened, empty house. This time, however, his hair was shorn off, and he was almost unrecognizable. His face was hollow, harsh, and tired. He went inside and sat on a threadbare sofa, running his hand absently over his forearm, brow creased. There was a knock on the door. Cautiously, he opened it and peered out. Lily was on the other side. She looked more beautiful than ever, Hermione thought.  
  
“I saw you walk by the house,” she said. “You always do.”  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you doing here, Lily? Shouldn't you be with your family... or perhaps your lover?” He spit the word out with disgust.  
  
“I don't want to talk about James, as I know you won't believe a word I say,” she replied, then paused. “Severus, I'm so scared for you. Please tell me you will go into hiding – that evil wizard will not be satisfied until he has you working for him. I've heard that he is ruthlessly recruiting the most talented Slytherins. If you will not join us, please find a safe place far from his reach!”  
  
He stared at her from behind the door.  
  
“Let me in, Severus,” she said.  
  
He finally did, pulling the door open and walking inside to sit on the sofa again.  
  
“What on earth have you done to your hair?” she asked.  
  
He glared at her. “It was time for a change.”  
  
“I don't like it.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'and'?  
  
“I remember, your hair was long when we first met,” she said. “Your mother never trimmed it, and it was so long...”  
  
“Why are you here?” he asked abruptly.  
  
“I told you. I'm worried about you. I've spent my life worrying about you, Severus. You've made such a name for yourself that I fear you are on the - the Dark Lord's list. Has he asked for you?”  
  
“Don't worry about me, Lily. You've chosen your path, and I am no longer part of it. You can stop caring about what might happen to Severus Snape, your poor, pathetic neighbor with the shit life. It's likely none of us will live much longer anyway.”  
  
“I can't stop caring!” she said angrily. “I will never stop caring! YOU stopped caring what I thought years ago. Maybe you never did.”  
  
After a long silence, Severus spoke. “I might ask you what you've done to your own hair. I suppose Potter prefers blondes? It's not you. You used to stand out. Now you look like the rest of them.”  
  
She gave him a steely glare before looking down at the thick family bible on the coffee table. She laughed.  
  
“I can't believe this old book is still here,” she said, trailing her fingers over the dusty cover. “I bet it hasn't been touched since we used to look through it, reading all the strange names. Your father might have called himself a catholic, but I doubt he ever read a word of it.”  
  
“Our names weren't in there...” Severus muttered. “You were so determined to find yours. I never knew why.”  
  
“No, I was determined NOT to find it. One of my old school friends, Zipporah, told me that her parents picked her name out of the bible, and that meant god thought she was special... I was afraid for a little while that the reason I could do magic was that I had a bible name and would have to go around performing miracles for god.”  
  
“Your savior complex started early, then.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” she asked.  
  
“You are determined to die fighting a hopeless battle against the most powerful wizard in centuries.”  
  
Lily was silent, her eyes full of worry.  
  
“Can I show you something?” she finally asked. She flipped open the bible and turned to the back pages. Severus suddenly leaned forward and grabbed her hand. Hermione then noticed the beautiful ruby and diamond ring on her left hand ring finger. Severus looked at Lily with such disbelief, pain, and loathing, that Lily recoiled, yanking her hand away.  
  
“Yes, we're engaged,” she said. “I'm only home now to make the announcement.”  
  
“Get out. I can't bear to look at you.”  
  
“Severus, stop.”  
  
“You would choose to be with James-bloody-Potter for the rest of your life, however long that might be? He will get you killed. He is an impulsive, arrogant fool! I have nothing more to say to you. Leave.”  
  
“I'm leaving!” she exclaimed. “I have to go, anyway. But not before I show you this... look!” She pulled a piece of paper out of the book and opened it.  
  
“I put this here fourth year, I think,” she said. “At the time I had hoped you would notice it, since it's on this particular page, which I used to catch you looking at sometimes.”  
  
There in the bible, written in red ink, were their names in a childish hand: 'Severus + Lily'. Hermione leaned in to read the paper Lily had pulled from the page, a bit of parchment with slanted, feminine handwriting on it that read, 'I love Severus Snape.'  
  
Lily folded the paper into her hand after he read it and stared at the top of his bowed head.  
  
“I might be marrying James Potter, but I loved you first, Severus. You can pretend I was just being a tease all those years, and that's why it never worked... but it's not the truth. You were too selfish and set on revenge to see what was right in front of your nose.”  
  
He stood and stomped to the door.  
  
“Get. Out.”  
  
She walked over to him.“It's not too late to change, Severus. It's never too late. Join us. There could be a place for you.”  
  
His eyes narrowed into slits.“You do not know your own fiance if you believe that to be true. He would sooner kill me than trust me.”  
  
He left her at the door and went to the kitchen.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked.  
  
He had pulled out a loaf of plain white bread and removed a slice.  
  
“Dinner. You may see yourself out anytime.”  
  
Before taking a bite, he said, “But first,” and kissed her forcefully, one hand holding the bread, the other cradling her head.  
  
“A little something to remember me by, and just so you know, I would have changed for you. I begged to be given the chance, after weeks of apologies fell on deaf ears. You cut me out of your life and went running straight into Potter's arms, did you not? How long did you expect me to grovel for your forgiveness?”  
  
“I was completely devastated that day!” she said. “You promised you would never use that word, and you broke your promise to me in front of half the school. You did what they all said you would – you betrayed me.”  
  
“And my humiliation is not to be taken into account? I suffered far worse that day, Lily, and you gave up on me for attempting to save face in front of Lucius Malfoy! Who I might remind you, barely considered me a Slytherin due to my continued friendship with you. I was a target within even my own house. You should have known I didn't mean it!”  
  
Lily shook her head and said, “I can't have this argument again. It was not just that day. That was the last straw after a year of you ignoring my pleas to stop fighting with my house mates and to stop learning magic that scared the bloody hell out of me!”  
  
“Tell me, just how do you and the rest of the Gryffindor imbeciles plan to fight a thing which you don't fully understand?” he asked, mouth twisting into a sneer. “I bet Potter is studying the very same magic right now in preparation, is he not?”  
  
She gave him a look of exasperation. “Severus, for the last time, listen to me! You could help us. We could hide you from the Death Eaters. It is not too late to change your mind. You are strong enough to change and forgive, I know it.”  
  
“You know nothing!” he said. “You are naïve and sheltered, and Potter is not the man you think he is! I am well aware that the reason you finally agreed to date the bastard is that he agreed to stop making my life hell. That was a lie, by the way. Did you know that James Potter took great pleasure in telling me this past year that if it weren't for you, he'd permanently rearrange my face? Or that if I fell in with the wrong crowd once we left school he wouldn't hesitate to kill me?"_

_Lily's eyes narrowed. “Severus, you – ”  
  
“Furthermore, unlike you and Potter, I would like to survive the that war is coming... and make no mistake, it is coming. If that means I make myself appear weak to avoid notice, so be it, but I will not do anything so foolish as you and your ignorant, cocky friends are planning."   
  
“Can't you run? Others are.”  
  
“It is too late for me,” he said darkly.   
  
“What does that mean?"  
  
He simply stared at her, eating his slice of bread slowly.“It is not your concern,” he said. “Go marry Potter, and enjoy what time you have left. You likely won't see me again. I'm going to bed.”  
  
He turned and stomped up the stairs, leaving a speechless, tearful Lily in the kitchen. He entered a small, sparsely furnished bedroom and sat down on the thin mattress of a narrow bed._  
  
Darkness overtook the scene and the next memory was black, accompanied by the sound of a man screaming in agony. After minutes had passed he stopped, gasping and wheezing for breath.  
  
 _"Please... please... I didn't know!"  
  
The screaming began once again, continued for another minute, and then Hermione heard the voice of Voldemort.  
  
"Now, Severus! It was you he tried to implicate for his actions. Go ahead..."  
  
A long few moments of silence stretched on in the darkness. Then came a soft, hissed 'sectumsempra' and the sound of pained whimpering.   
  
Voldemort laughed.  
  
"Is that all? You are weaker than I ever could have imagined. You have not lived up to your reputation as the boy who knew more Dark Magic in his first year than the rest of Hogwarts put together. It seems you have not the will, nor the ability to put it into practice. And here I was worried you might eventually challenge me! Let me show you how it's done, boy.”  
  
Screams commenced again, overlaid with the laughter of the Dark Lord.  
  
"Avada kedavra!"  
  
Silence followed, then Voldemort spoke again.  
  
"Let this pathetic excuse for a traitor be a warning to you, Severus. If you do not soon find a way to make yourself more useful, you will suffer ten times over what he did before I kill you. Do not be foolish. You know too much for me to let you escape, oh no... you are mine until the day you die, but you will chose how soon that day comes."_  
  
His voice faded out and a dim scene formed before her eyes.  
  
 _Severus was standing in a circle of Death Eaters. One cloaked figure stood inside the circle with him and a bound witch lay at their feet.  
  
"Severus will do it. I need to know I can count on him to carry out my plans... and if I cannot, I shall take great pleasure in showing him what happens to those for whom I no longer have a use."  
  
Severus raised his wand and Hermione held her breath. He hesitated, then lowered it.  
  
"I have some information that would be of great interest to you, my lord," he said. "You may kill me trying to extract it...or allow me to keep my hands out of such matters, for I could be much more valuable to you as a spy.”  
  
He kicked at the witch, turning her to face away from them.  
  
“If I am to infiltrate the other side, it would require a mind free of participation in such acts. Dumbledore is, as you know, a skilled Legilimens, second only to you. I will need spotless memories to show him, lest he destroy my mind deciding if he can trust me. I know you have tried to get inside Hogwarts in the past, to no avail. If he could be persuaded to believe I had changed allegiance..."  
  
"Ah, yes, I see that you have thought this through! I am impressed with you at last, Severus. Perhaps you are not so weak-willed as you seem. Perhaps you may yet find the courage to serve your master."_  
  
Hermione then watched various brief scenes, in which Severus revealed the prophecy to Voldemort, then later asked him to spare Lily's life when he discovered it meant Voldemort was going for Harry. He was mocked and given a warning that the Dark Lord would not be ordered about by his servants. Next, Severus begged Dumbledore for help when he later met with him on a hilltop. Then came a scene where Voldemort praised Severus for finally getting Dumbledore to trust him, with a contract for future employment as a Hogwarts professor. She watched a broken and wretchedly grieving Severus agree to protect Harry after Lily's death, and to continue his role as a double agent when Voldemort returned.  
  
The last memory took place in the headmaster's office. It was the moment Dumbledore revealed the second prophecy to Severus. Hermione's heart ached as she watched Severus listen to Dumbledore tell him that he had been destined to hand his closest childhood friend and first love to the Dark Lord, and that he had been destined to become a double agent as a result, saved from becoming a dark, bitter, broken man loyal to a Dark Lord only by the death of Lily. The younger Severus was in so much pain, and over a prophecy that was not about Lily after all. Had Dumbledore known what he was doing? Or had he truly believed it was about Lily? Part of the exchange between the two wizards made her wonder.  
  
 _“When a seer comes in contact with something or someone linked to a prophecy, a vision may result,” said Dumbledore. “I propose that your presence at the door that night was the catalyst for both prophecies. It seems that you were meant to hear the first, meant to take it to Lord Vold–“  
  
“No,” hissed Snape. “Do not say it!” He finally met Dumbledore’s gaze, his eyes feverish.  
  
“Do not speak to me about fate!” he hissed again. “You who are the skeptic!”  
  
Dumbledore was unfazed. He continued in a conversational tone.  
  
“Consider, Severus, Lily’s death has indeed saved you. What else could have brought you to me and set you so firmly against Voldemort? What else could have set you irrevocably in the role of the spy and spared you from tasks that would have damaged your soul beyond recognition?”_  
  
Hermione wanted to interrupt Dumbledore and explain that Severus had planned to become a spy long before Dumbledore had asked him to become a double agent. He had planted the seeds to save himself before he even knew that Harry, and consequently Lily, would become Voldemort's primary targets. Why had he never told Dumbledore? Perhaps because it would cast doubt on his motivations for turning sides. Perhaps Severus was too proud to admit that he had joined the Dark Lord only in the interest of his own survival, or else had been afraid of that fact being voiced aloud for fear Voldemort would discover the truth. Even Albus Dumbledore may not have truly known Severus Snape, and yet that cunning, cautious man had allowed her access to his thoughts and emotions. Then he shared his deepest secrets with her as well.  
  
Hermione lifted her head from the Pensieve, a weight pressing down on her chest. She now knew more about Severus than any other person alive. He had not wanted to show her these parts of his past, that much was obvious. He expected her to be disturbed, and perhaps angry with him. He was giving her the chance to run. She lifted her wand and cast her Patronus with some difficulty, feeling drained of energy.  
  
“I'm done,” she said, sending the hummingbird away.  
  
Moments later he appeared and came to her side. Hermione practically collapsed in him arms. He glanced up at the wall of portraits and led her out of the office, stopping halfway down the spiral stairs.  
  
“I'm exhausted,” she said.  
  
“A side effect of spending too much time in a Pensieve,” he murmured. “I brought you some liquid energy. I... I'm sorry.”  
  
“It's all right,” she said, unstoppering and downing the potion. “I just need – ” she sighed in annoyance. “I have to go make an appearance at a Quidditch game today or I'll never hear the end of it. I want to talk... perhaps tomorrow would be better? I just need some time – ”  
  
“I understand,” he said quietly. “Go to your friends. We shall speak no more until tomorrow.”


	26. Equilibrium

Severus watched Hermione descend the spiral staircase and wondered if she would be able to look him in the eyes the next time they met. She had carefully avoided doing so just then. She was overwhelmed. Knowing his mind so well, she might be the only person in the world who could understand just how deeply he regretted his actions as a young man. Yet she was the sort of person who would never have acted in such a way herself. Would knowing why he had done it matter to her?  
  
He hoped, too, that once she realized the level of deception he had employed against Voldemort, that she would not be afraid of him. Perhaps she would be surprised to learn that there were ways to keep another Legilimens from realizing that Occlumency was being employed against them. An accomplished Legilimens would be suspicious of the absence of all stray thoughts and emotions when deciding if someone could be trusted, so it was necessary to distract from the hidden thoughts in some way.  
  
The most useful technique Severus had found over the years was the use of strong emotion as a distraction. Anger and frustration had always been the best protection. They were easy to imitate and were the easiest emotions to sense when entering another's mind. They also caused enough commotion to distract another Legilimens from the mental shields strategically placed against them. Severus was an irritable person by nature and he had purposefully indulged and exaggerated that personality trait when deceiving the Dark Lord. He had even used it against Dumbledore when the man had gotten too nosy about Severus' inner demons and motivations – for what Dumbledore knew about someone, he used.  
  
Severus nearly missed lunch, until his stomach protested his neglect on that front. He ate a quick meal in the great hall, wondering if Hermione had gone straight to the Quidditch pitch hungry. He had not meant to keep her so long.  
  
He understood and accepted her desire for time to think about what she had seen, but the wait proved agonizing. Severus spent the next few hours waxing and waning between complete confidence in Hermione's feelings for him and wondering if she was now repulsed by idea of being with him, knowing he had spent nearly the entire span of her life regretting and mourning the lost love and life of another woman – a woman who happened to have been her best friend's mother.  
  
Now that he had let another person into his life and his very mind, Severus felt too much. It was overwhelming to feel such things for another person – a real, live person who returned his affection – after years of emotionless existence, feeling almost nothing but duty and the fear that he would not succeed in keeping Harry alive long to end the Dark Lord. He had never let himself acknowledge even a hint of concern for Lily's son on his own part, though he had devoted years to the task of protecting Harry.  
  
Severus had never loved before as he did now, not even Lily, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying. While he was skilled at suppressing and redirecting his emotions, he had very little experience exploring them or making decisions based on what he wanted. Everything he had said and done for almost twenty years had been calculated and detached from what he might truly feel and think, somewhere deep down in the recesses of his soul, where he dared not delve if he wanted to live, nor if he was to continue his mission with some semblance of sanity intact.  
  
Severus had been a sensitive child, a trait he inherited from his mother, but childhood taught him the necessity of ceasing to feel things when life became too unpleasant. Then Lily came into the picture, and he had felt things whether he wanted to or not. She was empathetic and understanding to a fault; as proven by the sort of young men she had loved in her short life. Neither Severus nor James had deserved her, but Severus had needed her friendship and she was there for years, forcing him to feel things, an often-ignored and ridiculed example of kindness and patience that eventually carved out a place in his heart for something other than bitterness to thrive.  
  
Being of a thin, underfed build, possessing an awkward set of features, and clothed in second-hand robes (some of which had belonged to his mother as a student), his appearance made him an obvious target for mockery. His intense emotional reactions made him a rewarding victim, perpetuating the cycle. He felt every slight, insult, and injustice keenly that first year at Hogwarts, and he responded by attempting to intimidate his peers with his intellect, fighting back with scathing observations and the threat of even Darker magic.  
  
It was not until Lily cut him out of her life that he truly learned how to repress his emotions and succeeded at the art of Occlumency. It was the ability to clear and shield his mind that had kept Severus from breaking. His mother had broken at some point early in his childhood, after years of emotional neglect and abuse at the hands of the man she had loved and for whom she had sacrificed all ties to the magical world.  
  
Severus had always been proud of his ability to control his emotions and to carefully choose which words left his mouth, but he had lately done and said things he never would have thought could come from himself. He wondered if he had caused Hermione to reconsider a relationship with him before she even saw the memories. He should have been more cautious and waited at least until the end of the summer to discuss such things, perhaps... but no, he knew she had been ready to hear it, and Severus had no desire to hold back the truth or attempt coyness with the woman who could feel his emotions as if they were her own.  
  
When he was with Hermione he lost the will to be always in control. She was in possession of a stable, well-balanced mind, rippled with deep emotion yet tempered with cool, analytical thought. With her it was safe to let go of the tight reign he kept on his feelings. He could let them bubble up into the forefront of his consciousness where they were seldom welcome.  
  
If not for Hermione jumping in front of the curse as Severus' life flashed before his eyes, unexpectedly destroying the emotional dam he had built up in his mind over the years, he might have well have spent the rest of his life barely acknowledging his emotions because it was easier that way. As a Death Eater and spy he had only given his true feelings and desires the smallest of acknowledgements before burying them under layers of deception. It had never mattered what he wanted, only what needed to be done.  
  
Severus was in such a state of restlessness that afternoon that he impulsively decided to leave the castle for a few hours. A plan had been brewing in his mind for the past few weeks, and it would be a welcome distraction from his thoughts. He asked Margaret White if she would like to join him for dinner in London and make a new acquaintance. She easily agreed, curious as to who she would be meeting.  
  
As Severus walked down to the castle gate to Apparate, it occurred to him that what he was about to do was quite out-of-character indeed. No matter – he wanted to know if his intuition was correct on this particular hunch. He walked into the Apothecary and looked around.  
  
“Be out in a moment!” called Alan, hearing the bell announce a customer. Severus walked up to the counter and peered into the back hall.  
  
“Do not hurry on my account,” he said. “I would not want you to spill anything and set the place on fire again.”  
  
Alan's head poked out from around the door frame. “Severus! I was not expecting to see you until later this week. What brings you here?”  
  
“If you are free this evening, I would like to introduce you to one of my professors. You may know her by name, though I do not think you would have met her... Margaret White. We are dining in London this evening.”  
  
“Margaret White? I _do_ know her name. Yes, of course I'll join you. I would be delighted. Where shall I meet you?”  
  
Severus left the Apothecary and ran a few errands in Diagon Alley, spending a good hour in his favorite bookshop, which specialized in old, difficult-to-find, often Dark texts, and also boasted a large collection of Magical History books from around the world. Later, Severus met Margaret at a pub hidden away on the border of the nicer shops and the half-deserted end that had not yet recovered from the war.  
  
The Angry Lark was a new establishment with steady business but not many regulars as of yet, except for Severus and Alan. It was dark inside and the walls were lined with an eclectic collection of old wizarding family crests, Muggle and wizard band posters and photographs, and strange, surreal art work that featured animal-human hybrids and depictions of what appeared to be angels and demons locked in epic battles of light and fire. Added to all of this were a handful of pen and ink drawings of larks and other birds in flight.  
  
"This is an interesting place," commented Margaret, looking around.  
  
"I think you will appreciate the owners' political leanings," said Severus. "I also happen to know that they would love to meet you. They anxiously await the release of your mother's memoir."  
  
Severus saw Alan enter the pub and managed to catch his eye.  
  
"Here is our guest now," he said. "Alan Petroski, as I believe you know, oversaw Hermione's apprenticeship at the Apothecary. Alan, this is Margaret White, Howarts' Muggle Studies professor."  
  
They shook hands.  
  
"I've heard so much about you from Hermione that I feel I already know you," said Margaret. "It's nice to meet you at last."  
  
"The pleasure is mine," replied Alan, taking a seat next to her. “I heard much about you from Miss Granger as well.”  
  
Severus leaned back in his seat and listened as Alan and Margaret immediately struck up a friendly and lively conversation. Their drinks arrived and they ordered. It was not until the food arrived that there was a lull in their conversation and Margaret turned to Severus.  
  
“You have been quiet this evening, even for you, Severus,” she said. “You seem out of spirits. I haven't heard one pithy remark from you all day, not even when Horatia told you she wasn't sure she would be able to return next year.”  
  
“Ah, yes... Horatia seems to have decided that teaching is not her calling after all, despite,” said Severus, “many of her students' enthusiasm for her return.”  
  
“By 'many', you mean the half of the school that is male, I take it?”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
Alan looked puzzled, so Margaret explained that Bartram was shockingly attractive and was fancied by most of the young wizards at Hogwarts.  
  
“Even Kingsley Shacklebolt was smitten for a while,” she said, laughing. “But unfortunately for him, she only had eyes for Severus! I would not be surprised if her interest in coming to Hogwarts was purely for the opportunity to seduce him.”  
  
Alan's eyes got a mischievous gleam in them as they fell on Severus.  
  
“Severus has somehow managed to resist this stunning beauty's advances, I take it?” he asked.  
  
Margaret glanced at Severus and said, “Yes, he turned the poor witch down.”  
  
“I expected no less,” said Alan. “If the witch was silly enough to take a job in hopes of seducing a war hero, she could not hope that plan would work on Severus Snape.”  
  
“Are the two of you quite finished?” said Severus irritably. “I did not bring you here to discuss my love life, a subject on which the less is said, the better... for all of us.”  
  
Alan and Margaret shut up, but Alan continued to look at him knowingly.  
  
“Apologies, Severus,” he said cordially. “We shall endeavor to do a better job distracting you from your thoughts, as no doubt was your intention this evening.”  
  
Severus glared at him and said, “Do not trouble yourself, Alan, about my thoughts. My only motive was to introduce the two of you and spend a few hours away from the castle. I have lost all patience for having meals in the din of hundreds of dunderheaded children celebrating the end of exams and homework. That bloody train cannot take them away soon enough.”  
  
“Hear, hear!” said Margaret, raising her mug briefly. After drinking from it, she picked up her fork again.  
  
“This is fantastic fare,” she said. “I shall be returning, and I hope that next time the owners will not be out of town so that I may introduce myself.”  
  
Alan began waxing eloquent on the high points of the menu, and Margaret declared she was determined to try it all, which led to them deciding between themselves that they and Severus should have a meal at The Angry Lark at least once a week throughout the summer. The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, though Severus' mind attempted to wander back to Hermione more than a few times. He was satisfied with the decision to introduce the two of them and he was looking forward to weekly meals with Alan and Margaret.  
  
Returning to the castle together, Severus and Margaret walked up the path in comfortable silence after she thanked him for inviting her to dinner and introducing her to Alan. Severus thought she seemed much younger than her 68 years that evening.  
  
“Are you sorry to see the school year end?” she asked after a while. “What will you do this summer, without any cursed students to tend after or Dark wizards to spy on?”  
  
Severus glanced at her.  
  
“I have looked forward to the end of June more this year than ever,” he said. “There idea of spending a few months in idleness for the first time in my life is... appealing, to say the least.”  
  
Margaret laughed lightly and said, “I cannot imagine you will be idle, Severus, though I do hope you are able to enjoy some simple relaxation for once in your life. You are not the sort of person to indulge in laziness or to loaf about all summer. You will find a project to work on. I bet you already have a plan forming in your mind as to how you will fill the days away from the castle.”  
  
Severus acknowledged that statement with a small bow of his head.  
  
“I have some ideas,” he said. “I expect to enjoy every moment away from Hogwarts this year. What shall you do with your time?”  
  
“Well, unlike you, I have no qualms frittering a day away,” she said. “So I shall spend at least a few weeks doing as little as possible, other than socializing and reading for pleasure. Then mother and I shall get to work on our next plan of action.”  
  
“Which is?”  
  
“Yet undecided,” she said. “But we are gathering more and more support; it is a dream I never thought possible in all my years living in the Muggle world.”  
  
Severus went to his rooms and tried to read that evening. Unable to keep his thoughts on the page, he soon gave up and went down to the tunnel, brewing late into the night. He finally slept, stretching out on the sofa in his lab and drifting off into dreamless darkness at last. He was woken by the loud crack of house-elf Apparition and Truno's rough voice.  
  
“Headmaster! Wake now, Miss Granger be here to speak with you. She says it be urgent!”  
  
Sitting upright immediately, Severus blinked at the pair of them. Hermione was wearing school robes, her hair up in a tidy bun, holding a pair of heavy dragon-skin gloves. She must have planned on finishing her Herbology greenhouse hours this week, as a certain amount of time spent pruning, planting, and weeding was required for full credit in the course.  
  
“What is the time?” he asked.  
  
“It's seven o'clock,” she said. “I sent you a Patronus earlier, asking if we might talk before breakfast. When you didn't answer, I asked Truno if you were still asleep and he said you never came back to your rooms last night."

“Thank you, Truno,” said Severus. “You may go.”  
  
The elf bowed slightly and disappeared. Severus stood as Hermione approached him.  
  
“I hardly slept last night,” she said. He regarded her seriously, not yet daring to touch her, though he wanted to do so.  
  
“I, too, found it difficult to clear my mind,” he said.  
  
“You have a lot of secrets, Severus Snape. I understand why you never told anyone about... about Lily. I suppose I also understand why you had to make sure you never got close to Harry...”  
  
“Ask me whatever you must, Hermione," he said.   
  
“Did you mean all the things you said about Harry being just like his father? I know he was a prat in your class, and yes, sometimes arrogant and always stubborn... but did you hate him like you hated James?”  
  
“At times, especially around his fifth year, I saw nothing but James in him... but I could not allow myself to see anything of his mother. It would have opened my mind to the possibility of caring for the boy, and any such emotion related to Harry would have put an end to my role as a spy... and my life.”  
  
Hermione lifted her eyes to his again.  
  
“Why did Dumbledore ask you to give Harry Occlumency lessons? It couldn't have been just because he was afraid of Voldemort getting near his own mind... it put you at even greater risk than Dumbledore, and he needed you to spy for the Order. What if Voldemort had suspected you were actually helping Harry?”  
  
“The Dark Lord already knew my mind fully, or so it appeared to him... so there was no reason for him to use his connection to Harry to get to me. In that way, Harry gained some protection from me. I never openly denied the Dark Lord access to my mind and he was unaware that what he saw there was organized for his benefit. Furthermore, my giving the lessons served to illustrate the complete trust Dumbledore had in me, making me most valuable to Voldemort at a time when he was not sure if he could still trust me.”  
  
Severus took a small step closer to her as he said, “It was part of the plan for the lessons to appear to have failed due to sabotage on my part. Harry played his part perfectly – he was on edge in my presence, to say the least.”  
  
“Of course it was planned to fail,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Dumbledore must have known Harry would never trust you...”  
  
“Though I doubt he meant it,” said Severus, “Dumbledore also told me that he hoped that I would learn to care for Harry during those lessons, despite my insistence that any feelings toward Harry other than indifference, anger, or annoyance would be dangerous to have floating around in my head.”  
  
Hermione studied him. “But you _did_ protect Harry and the rest of us.”  
  
“I made a promise to Dumbledore when Lily died, to honor her memory and atone for my sins by protecting her son. This was easily explained away as a ruse to ingratiate myself to Dumbledore, and as far as the Dark Lord knew, the protection I offered Harry was only enough to gain access to Hogwarts and his greatest enemies.”  
  
“Voldemort knew about you and Lily?”  
  
“He knew... enough to know that he caused me pain with her death. He used her memory against me often, as a threat and mental punishment. He knew I cared for her, but not the extent of our relationship. He believed I was most upset that I never got the object of my desire before it was too late, and he reminded me often that I would never again have anything I wanted unless he decided to give it to me.”  
  
Hermione sat down heavily.  
  
“How... how did you live that way for so long? Your own mind, your own thoughts... they were all part of your disguise? I know I'm not an expert in Mind Magic, but... how did you manage to keep yourself from thinking or feeling things that would get you killed?”  
  
He joined her on the sofa and said, “I did not think or feel anything... unless it was part of the plan. I occluded thoughts and feelings away inside my own mind. I did this until the moment you jumped in front of that curse and I watched you die, or so I thought. At that moment, it all came out.”  
  
“What did?” she asked softly.  
  
“What I had suppressed and refused to feel...” Severus took a breath. “Deepest hatred for the Dark Lord, the desire to avenge you and everyone else who had fallen, gratitude for people such as yourself, who would sacrifice their lives. You had so much potential for greatness in you, and I saw it wasted on myself, when I should have been dead already that day from that sodding snake bite. I would have given anything in that moment to take the curse and see you live. Anything.”  
  
Her eyes were large and full of unspilled tears. “You've said that before, you know. That you would give anything to save someone else. You are a good man, Severus. I don't care what anyone else, even you, says... you were never as far gone as you seem to believe. Lily knew it and so do I.”  
  
“No one other than myself knows just how far I went down that path,” said Severus. “Suffice it to say, far enough that I did not think I would ever see goodness in the world again. Yet, here I am, sitting in front of a woman who appears to be in possession of a sane mind and sound judgement, asking her to... trust me.”  
  
Hermione stared at him steadily.  
  
“Do you understand the risk you are taking?” he demanded. “I've just told you that I successfully occluded my emotions from my own mind for much of my life and I would have continued to do so if not for the curse.”  
  
Hermione suddenly grabbed his shoulder.  
  
“Severus! You must stop trying to talk me out of this – every relationship is a risk, romantic or not. Why are you determined to persuade me away?”  
  
He took her hands in his and said, “Because, witch, I do not possess your indomitable optimism, and I know fuck-all about relationships. I never expected to have one.”  
  
She laughed and said, “Well, I know fuck-all about them as well! I've never been in one that lasted more than a few months. Perhaps I should be warning you off me. I _am_ young, naïve, and stupid, after all.”  
  
“Only one of those things is remotely true,” replied Severus. “I am convinced your mind has aged much faster than the rest of you. I am also surprised that keeping Potter alive all these years has not given you more grey hair.”  
  
“More?!”  
  
Severus pressed his finger to the top of her head and said, “You have about five, right there.”  
  
She gasped and touched the spot, incensed. “Those don't count, I have a scar there!”  
  
He searched her face for signs that he had dredged up painful memories.  
  
“I've had that grey patch since I busted my head open when I was five,” she explained. “I accidentally levitated a music box and then dropped it on my head when my mum walked in.”  
  
Severus relaxed and smiled slightly at the image. “Nevertheless, they are not out of place on your bushy little head,” he said. “You have wisdom and fortitude beyond your years.”  
  
“Bushy! Is this your new tactic to get rid of me? Insults?”  
  
“Has it worked?”  
  
“Severus,” she flashed him a look of warning.  
  
“Yes?” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.  
  
“I'm glad you showed me those memories.”  
  
“You may feel differently the next time you see Potter.”  
  
Hermione crooked her head to the side, still looking at him.  
  
“I am not bothered by your past,” she said. “Not even the parts of it that involve Harry and his mother. I only care who you are now.”  
  
Hermione moved closer to lean against him. Severus slowly put his arms around her, feeling unabashedly elated.  
  
“I am... glad,” he said.  
  
She giggled. “If I couldn't sense just how happy you are right now, I would think you were being sarcastic,” she said.  
  
They left the tunnel separately for breakfast a short time later and spent the rest of the day teasing one another unbeknownst to Hermione's peers and the rest of the school. The next day was the last Hogsmeade day of the year and Severus was glad that many of the students would be vacating the castle to rid themselves of some restless energy. He walked down to the village alone, well after the students had gone and it was nearly lunch time. He went to the Hogs Head Tavern, looking to avoid the throngs of young witches and wizards goofing off and laughing wildly as they desperately flirted with one another before the summer took them off to their own corners of the country and family vacations. The fact that Hermione would likely be there may have influenced his choice of destination as well. She was not there when Severus walked in, but Draco and Harry sat together at a table in the corner. Curious, Severus approached the two young wizards.  
  
“Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter having a meal together... has hell frozen over?”  
  
“Don't get too excited, we've only decided to get along this week to pacify Granger,” said Draco. “Then I'm off to Egypt and we shall never have to see one another again.”  
  
“We're waiting for Hermione,” said Harry. “It's supposed to be a surprise.”  
  
Draco's eyes lit up. “Let's go one further,” he said. “Imagine if she walked in and saw all three of us sitting together.”  
  
Harry looked uncertain about the idea of inviting Severus to join them.  
  
“Er, yeah... would you like to join us, Professor?” he asked. Severus sat down next to Draco without comment and an awkward silence filled the air.  
  
“Still going into the Auror program, Potter?” asked Draco.  
  
“I am,” said Harry, a bit stiffly.  
  
Draco smirked. “I would have thought you'd want to be a Quidditch star like your girlfriend,” he said.  
  
Harry shrugged. “Not really.”  
  
Severus saw Hermione come in before the boys did and cleared his throat. She soon noticed them and did a rather comical double take.  
  
“What... what is going on? Harry? Draco? Se – uh – something happen I should know about, Professor Snape?”  
  
Harry grinned at her and said, “Draco and I have made up, so you can stop worrying about us hexing one another when your back is turned. We wanted to surprise you by showing up together. Er – and Draco invited Professor Snape to join us just now.”  
  
Hermione's eyes went from one wizard to the next as she sat down beside Harry.  
  
“Well... I'm certainly surprised,” she said.  
  
“Where's Ginny?” asked Harry.  
  
“Oh... she agreed to help Padma look for wedding dresses,” said Hermione. “She said she will catch up with you after lunch. They figured it was a good time, since Ron's in remediation for the N.E.W.T.s today.”  
  
Draco sniggered, earning himself glares from the two Gryffindors at the table. He ignored them and turned to Severus.  
  
“So, Professor... how are things in the Potions lab lately?”  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow and countered, “How are things in the Slug Club, Draco? I hear you were given the honor of membership after we caught your imposter.”  
  
“Oh, it's just grand being forced to chat with Slughorn on the regular. I've noticed you're still down in the dungeons often. How are you getting along without Granger's dazzling company?”  
  
Draco smirked again as he continued, “I bet you had to give her a limit on how many questions she could ask in a day... or was it by the hour?”  
  
“Draco Malfoy, I am great company, and you know it!” exclaimed Hermione. “Why else would you have stayed in the library with me so long after we were done with our tutoring sessions?”  
  
Harry stared at Draco with something akin to terror. If only the boy knew the truth, Severus thought.  
  
“Are you...” He looked at Hermione. “You... and _Malfoy?_ ”  
  
She and Draco burst out laughing.  
  
“Calm down, Potter, it's a joke,” said Draco. “Besides, I'm not the worst person she could fancy.”  
  
Draco looked at Severus and said, “Remember Krum? Followed her around like a puppy dog? Couldn't even pronounce her name?”  
  
“Stop! It was wonderful to have a date for the ball who knew how to dance!”  
  
Harry grinned, joining in now. "And after the ball? When he would watch you study until you gave in and snogged him instead?"  
  
"Harry!" She blushed and avoided looking at Severus.   
  
"Have you and Potter ever had a go at it?” asked Draco. “I hear you spent a lot of time alone together last year."  
  
"Stop discussing my love life this instant, the both of you, or I shall hex your eyebrows off permanently! And for your information, Draco, Harry is like a brother to me and that is all!"  
  
Severus shifted in his seat.  
  
“The three of you will stop nattering,” he said calmly, “and find a more interesting topic of conversation, or I shall be joining Aberforth at the bar.”  
  
“All right, keep your robe on,” said Draco lazily. “I don't much care who Granger fancies, anyway.”  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow at the pale young wizard and changed the topic of conversation. “How is your mother, Draco?”  
  
Harry and Hermione fell silent as Draco shrugged and said, “She's home. The healers visit weekly. She wants to visit Egypt with me when I leave.”  
  
Severus sat with the three students for a meal and they listened to Draco talk about the magical textile industry, which he had become impressively knowledgable about in a short span of time. He had ambitions to run his own company one day. Severus and Draco left Harry and Hermione to wait for their friends just in time, passing Ginny Weasley on the way out the door. Draco soon parted ways with Severus in search of Tracey Davis and her friends. Severus walked back to the castle alone, feeling full and satisfied with life for the first time. Everything was coming together in a most unexpectedly pleasant manner.


	27. Coda

Hermione closed the door to the head girl's rooms for the last time after waiting for Crookshanks to make his exit. He plopped himself down on top of her suitcase and yowled at her.  
  
“Tell me about it,” she said.   
  
She opened his basket and sternly pointed to the cozy, blanketed interior.  
  
“Go on, or we'll miss the train and I shall very cross with you!”  
  
Crookshanks finally acquiesced and hopped into his bed. Hermione secured the latch on the top of the basket and picked it up by the handle. Her trunk had wheels and she stacked the basket on top of it and rolled it out into the Gryffindor common room. It was in a flurry of activity as the girls prepared to go down to the train platform.  
  
“Hermione, I'm ready!” said Ginny, appearing in front of her. “Let's go.”  
  
They made their exit and met Harry and Neville outside the portrait hole. Silently, the four of them stood looking at the fat lady's portrait, which was empty at the moment.  
  
“That's it, then,” said Harry at last. “We'll never go into the common room again.”  
  
He put his arm around Ginny and she leaned her head onto his shoulder. Neville coughed and blinked a few times.  
  
“Well... on to better and brighter things!” said Hermione blithely, spinning around and taking off down the hall. After a moment, she turned back to look at them.  
  
“Are you lot coming, or what?” she said.   
  
Even though many of the graduating students' parents had been there the day before to attend the ceremony, most students would still ride the Hogwarts Express home. It was tradition.  
  
Once they met up with Luna, navigated the hectic platform to say their goodbyes to the professors and staff, including a few of the friendlier house-elves, they finally settled into their compartment on the train and relaxed. Or rather, Hermione's friends relaxed while she inwardly churned with conflicting emotions, the strongest of which was frustration that the train was currently removing her from her favorite place on earth and taking her away from the only person she really wanted to spend time with now that she was officially no longer a student.  
  
She and Severus had barely seen one another after the short lunch they'd shared in Hogsmeade with Draco and Harry. Hermione had taken her remaining N.E.W.T.s and Severus had promised to come to London as soon as possible. There was just the tricky business of making sure Harry was not around – it would be two weeks before he started Auror training. Hermione had hoped that he would be on vacation with the Weasleys, but he had decided not to go since Ginny was not going. She would be starting her training for her first season with the Holyhead Harpies immediately and Harry wanted to spend as much time with her as possible when she was not on the Quidditch pitch.  
  
Hermione had been genuinely surprised that Harry was not planning to propose after graduation. He said that he wanted to wait until at least the end of the summer, once Ginny had gotten the chance to live on her own in a flat with a couple other girls from the team. Hermione had no doubt that the two of them would be married by the next year. She hoped that they would both be so busy with their jobs, training, and visiting one another that she would have Grimmauld Place to herself. Hermione would pick up a few hours at Alan Petroski's shop until her job at the research lab started, but otherwise her days would be free.   
  
Severus must be kept a secret for a while longer.There was no longer any danger of Severus being removed from the school if they were found out, though plenty of inappropriate things had occurred during the school year. Still, there would surely be controversy over the true start of their relationship if they did not hide it until at least the start of fall term.  
  
Hermione had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted Severus over the next week. Though he was to stay at Hogwarts with the rest of the faculty and staff, Hermione had hoped Harry might stay the night at the Weasleys' one or two evenings and Severus might be able to Apparate over. Instead, Ginny decided to stay with Harry until she moved into her apartment the next week, and she and Harry were in and out of Grimmauld Place at all odd hours of the day and night moving her belongings, packing, visiting her family and then escaping her family when they needed a few moments alone.  
  
Harry and Ginny tried to include Hermione in their plans as much as possible, but the invitations only served to exacerbate her already frustrated mood. She passed her moodiness off as nervousness about the future and restlessness over waiting to begin her new job until one evening, when she and Ginny were attempting to make a nice dinner and Harry met with his supervisors at the Ministry. In the tradition of Hermione and her mum, they were each having a glass of wine while preparing the meal.  
  
“Hermione, are Harry and I annoying you, always being here?” asked Ginny.  
  
“What? No, of course not! I'm glad we get to spend a little more time together before you both go into training and I hardly see you.”  
  
Ginny carefully charmed a knife into chopping the vegetables for their salad.  
  
“I know, me too. I just worry sometimes we're too, er, affectionate in front of you. Is it awful, having your roommate's girlfriend here all the time? I mean, if it wasn't me, it would be really annoying... admit it!”  
  
Hermione laughed and said, “Okay... if it was Padma, I might not be happy about it. But it's not Padma, it's you – I like you.”  
  
“Poor Padma,” said Ginny. “They're moving in with George after the wedding, since he has that lovely, large flat above the shop, and he teases her mercilessly. Perhaps I should say 'poor George', as he will soon be living with newlyweds.”  
  
“That does sound awful,” said Hermione. Ron's wedding was in two weeks.  
  
The two witches worked silently for a few minutes. Hermione sighed as she placed the baking dish into the oven.  
  
“Sorry, Ginny,” she said. “I know I've been in a bit of a mood this week. It's not you and Harry. I promise.”  
  
Ginny looked over with some amusement and said, “Maybe you just need a good shag.”  
  
“Merlin, YES, ” Hermione replied heartily, without missing a beat. Ginny's eyes grew round and she burst out laughing.  
  
“Oh... my... sweet... bloody... Merlin, Hermione!” she gasped.  
  
“What?” asked Hermione innocently, a grin taking over her face.  
  
“I just... wasn't expecting... you to agree... with me! Ah...” Ginny wiped the tears from her eyes.  
  
They sipped their wine, Hermione finishing hers. Harry arrived and soon they were having a meal together, Hermione enjoying herself more than she had expected to. It was not until the next morning that she found herself in a foul mood again. A letter from her mother arrived before breakfast. Her parents were coming to London to celebrate her graduation on Friday and would be staying for nearly a week. Though they had planned to stay in a hotel, Harry would not hear of it and insisted that they were welcome at Grimmauld Place.  
  
“I can't do that to you, Harry,” said Hermione desperately. “My parents weren't exactly nice to you when we last visited. I think it would be better if they didn't stay here...”  
  
“It's all right, Hermione,” he said easily. “I'll hardly be here, and besides, I can just stay with Ginny, since her flatmates aren't moved in yet. Enjoy the time with your parents.”  
  
Hermione could have screamed, but instead she sat down and wrote back to invite her mum and dad to stay at Grimmauld Place for a week. The week she had hoped to spend alone with Severus. Then she sent Severus a Partronus announcing the unfortunate news.  
  
Soon, his shimmering bat appeared with a return message.  
  
 _As I hardly think it an appropriate time for me to meet your parents, I will see you next Friday. Do make sure Potter is out for the night._  
  
Hermione found herself highly annoyed that he had not sounded more upset over the delay.  
  
Her parents arrived a few days later and Hermione was surprised to find that they were no longer interested in pushing her to return to the Muggle world to make something of herself. Her father, in particular, was most interested in the work she would be doing at the research lab, and while her mother liked to tease her for choosing a career path in which she would literally stand over a cauldron daily, she seemed content that Hermione had found a place in the magical world doing something research-based. It had taken a while for her parents to grasp that magic and science were not mutually exclusive disciplines.  
  
She took them to lunch with Alan Petroski one day, after spending the morning working in the shop. After speaking with Alan, they were even more at peace with the path their daughter had chosen. Hermione would have to think of a very nice thank you gift for Alan, who had praised her work and intelligence highly and informed her parents that she would surely go on to do great things. There had only been one moment when she wished Alan would keep quiet on her academic pursuits over the past school year.  
  
“The Headmaster was most impressed with Hermione's work this year,” Alan had said, causing Hermione's heart to skip a beat at the mention of his name. “Professor Snape and I are old friends, and I can tell you he rarely praises a student's work unless it is beyond exemplary. He was positively delighted to supervise her independent work and had only good things to say about Hermione's brilliance.”  
  
“Oh, the headmaster, was it? Hermione only told us it was her Potions professor.”  
  
“He was also my Potions professor,” said Hermione, trying not to sound defensive.  
  
“Yes, well... he must have thought your work very important to take the time to supervise for you,” said her mother. “I'm sure he is busy enough running a school... and apparently also teaching advanced courses.”  
  
“Ah, you are right, Mrs. Granger,” said Alan. “Hermione was lucky indeed, to get him to agree. I think, though, that he would not have passed up the opportunity to work with such a promising student. It was an honor he would not have wanted to see go to Horace Slughorn.”  
  
At her parent's confused looks, Hermione interjected, “Professor Slughorn is the regular Potions professor and head of Slytherin house.”  
  
Her mother shook her head and said, “Even back when you used to tell us more about your classes and professors, I could hardly keep all the names and terms and spells straight... but I _do_ think I remember you saying something about your Potions professor being horribly cruel to Harry – was that this Slughorn fellow? I'm glad you didn't have to work with him.”  
  
Hermione cleared her throat as Alan met her eyes, looking amused.  
  
“Yes, I am lucky to have gotten to work with Professor Snape,” she said, letting a small smile cross her face.  
  
The next day was spent shopping with her mother in both the Muggle and magical parts of London. Her father spent most of it in his favorite bookshop and various cafés, ending the day at the pub where he and her mum had gotten engaged, where they met him for dinner.  
  
“Do you think you will ever move back?” asked Hermione, after listening to her parents reminisce.  
  
“When our memories first returned, that was the plan,” said her father. “But... we rather like our practice, our friends, and our home in Australia. Perhaps we will move back once we retire. By that time you may be ready to settle down and give us some grandchildren...”  
  
He winked and smiled at her reaction.  
  
“Oh, don't tease her!” said her mum, knowing that Hermione was not especially fond of children, and not entirely certain she ever wanted any of her own.  
  
“You forget, too,” said Hermione, “that since I'm magical I have quite a few more years than Muggles to decide if I want a family... so don't expect my biological clock to start ticking anytime soon!”  
  
Though she knew her father was only teasing, Hermione suspected that deep down he truly would like to be a grandfather one day.The next day was spent exploring their favorite museums and parks together, followed by a homemade dinner in at Grimmauld Place. Hermione enjoyed the week with her parents, though Severus was never far from her thoughts.  
  
Finally, it was Friday morning. Her parents left before dawn to catch their plane. Hermione woke and groggily hugged them goodbye in the dim light on the front stoop. She then went back to bed, waking with the sunrise to send a Patronus to Severus before dozing off yet again. She was finally woken for good a short time later by Crookshanks demanding his breakfast loudly.  
  
“All right, all right!” She rolled out of bed and stretched. Crookshanks yowled and bounded out of the room. Seconds later he was back, meowing insistently until she stood and walked toward the bedroom door. Once again, Crookshanks disappeared and led her down the stairs to the kitchen, where she was greeted with the unmistakable smells of breakfast. Turning the corner, she peered around the doorframe to see Severus sitting at the table with a mug of coffee.  
  
She gasped as a smile curled one side of his mouth upward.  
  
“Oh!” Hermione ducked back out of the room, her heart racing out of both surprise and anticipation. “Are you really sitting in my kitchen right now?” she called. “After sneaking in here and cooking me breakfast? Is it really you, or am I still dreaming?”  
  
She poked her head around the frame once more, suddenly aware of the fact that she was not wearing a bra under her thin t-shirt and that her ratty pajama shorts were the most revealing thing she had ever worn in front of him.  
  
“Get in here and join me before it's all gone cold,” he said. She stared at him for just a moment more, taking in his loose white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, long legs clothed in black stretched out under the table, and dark eyes sending a thrill of excitement into her chest as warm happiness washed over her. He was enjoying her gaze – still smirking, he raised a eyebrow and brought his mug to his lips. She stumbled into the room.  
His eyes ran over her once and settled on her own.  
  
“I would have gotten dressed, if I had known you were here,” she said, hugging her arms to her chest.  
  
He used his foot to push out her chair. “Never mind your wardrobe, or... lack thereof...”  
  
He summoned their plates and their breakfast landed neatly on them moments later, still piping hot. Crookshanks batted at her feet, and Hermione remembered to feed him. Returning to her seat, Severus raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Tea?” he asked, remembering that Hermione was not fond of coffee.  
  
“Yes, please,” she said, and the kettle, a cup, milk, and sugar floated themselves over to settle down in front of her.  
  
Hermione smiled at him as she fixed her tea.  
  
“This is wonderful. I am thoroughly surprised! You cook!”  
  
“Indeed. Growing up in a home without magic, I can even do so without excessive spell-work.”  
  
“Ah... me too,” she said. “But... I do use the spells, especially around my mother. It annoys her that I can be more efficient in the kitchen than her with magic.”  
  
He lifted his mug once more. “How was your time with your family this week?”  
  
Hermione laughed. “Even though I was counting down the days until they left, it was nice. They have finally given up trying to convince me I should come back to the Muggle world.”  
  
“A wise decision on their part,” he said. “As if anyone could keep you away, with the amount of magic that runs in your veins.”  
  
“They had lunch with Alan and I the other day,” she said. “And now they think it's great that I've decided on a career in Potions.”  
  
They ate for a few moments in silence. Hermione snuck a bare foot over to rub his leg, giving him an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle, and laughing when he froze and shook his head slowly.  
  
“Control yourself, witch,” he said, only a hint of amusement to be found in the light in his eyes. “Finish your breakfast.”  
  
She smiled and obediently ate another bite, holding his gaze. “And when I'm done?”  
  
“Then we shall spend the rest of the day together... if that pleases you.”  
  
“It does.”  
  
Hermione ate quickly and finished her tea. She stood, gathered the dishes and set them to washing themselves. “I'm going to shower. Be back in a bit,” she said, walking past him.  
  
He pulled her back by the hand and reached to bring her head to his, kissing her mouth. Hermione sighed lightly and placed her hand on the back of his neck, gathering some of his hair into her fingers. She swung one leg over his lap and kissed him. The cadence of her breath betrayed her eagerness. A low, rumbling laugh emanated from him. He grabbed her waist, stood, and placed her back on the floor.  
  
“Not. Yet,” he said, tantalizingly running his hands over her back and down to graze the waistband of her pajama shorts. “Go shower and I shall return shortly.”  
  
“Where are you going?” Hermione asked.  
  
He simply smiled and gave her a light push toward the door.  
  
“Go,” he said. He followed her out of the kitchen and watched her walk up the stairs, until she disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
Hermione showered and took the time to dry her hair properly with a few spells so that it fell in wild, but manageable curls over her shoulders and down her back. She applied the lotion Ginny had given her for Christmas to her face and brushed her teeth.  
  
“Do you plan on leaving the washroom at some point today?” came a deep voice from the other side of the door.  
  
“I'll be out in moment. My room is the one across the hall.”  
  
She donned her robe and opened the door to the welcome sight of the man leaning against the wall next to her bedroom door.  
  
“You can't go out dressed like that," he said.  
  
“Suppose you tell me where we're going, so I'll have an idea of what to wear?”  
  
“Wear whatever you like. Be prepared to walk.”  
  
Hermione walked to the closet and thought for a moment before choosing a long, floaty skirt and thin top. She went over and took hold of the door handle.  
  
“Be right out,” she said, closing it on him. She dressed quickly, chose a pair of comfortable flats, and opened the door to see Severus standing exactly where she had left him.  
  
“Ready?” he asked, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her to him for a kiss.  
  
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said a moment later, wishing she knew where they were about to go. They walked out to the front stoop and he Apparated them out of Grimmauld Place and into what appeared to be a Muggle fairground, behind the corner of a building covered in colorful vintage-style posters.  
  
Hermione looked around, astonished that this was his surprise. It did not seem a place where Severus Snape would choose to spend his day.  
  
“Where are we?” she asked at last.  
  
“Dudley,” he said. “Specifically, the Black Country Living Museum. We are currently standing in the recreated 1930's fairground portion of the site.”  
  
At Hermione's curious look, he continued, “As we cannot be seen together anywhere there might be magical folk about... a Muggle historical venue seemed as safe choice. Have you been here before?”  
  
Hermione shook her head. “No... have you?”  
  
He watched a group of children and their parents climb aboard the nearby carousel as he said, “Once, with the Evans family, the summer after my first year at Hogwarts.”  
  
Hermione reached out and took his hand. “What was your favorite part?”  
  
They explored the fairgrounds and moved on to the rest of the village, watched a blacksmith work, tried their hand at making sweets, walked through Dudley castle, saw a showing of a silent film at the cinema, and ended the day with a canal tour.  
  
Hermione greatly enjoyed being able to walk with Severus in public as a couple. She was relieved to find that they did not draw any unwanted attention. The only comments they received were from a few older women who looked Severus over, noticed Hermione standing with him, and quickly moved on.  
  
Hermione was glad that Severus did not look his age, at least not by Muggle standards. Magical blood kept people youthful far longer, and without the stress of espionage and war his face seemed to have lost some of the lines it once had.  
  
After lunch, Severus led her behind the building and held out his arm once again. She took it and they were transported away and landed not back at Grimmauld Place, but in a sunlit wood, where dappled late-afternoon light filtered through the tall canopy of foliage above them. Severus pointed his wand at a spot behind her and music began to play. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see a record player sitting on an old tree stump.  
  
Aware of her mouth hanging open in surprise, Hermione looked back at Severus. He took her waist and began to move her around the small mossy clearing with an easy grace that made Hermione feel as if she might float right up through the tops of the trees.  
  
“After the way you watched me at the winter ball,” he said. “I thought you might like a dance.”  
  
“And where have you brought me for this dance?”  
  
“We are in Sherwood Forest,” he said. “There was a centuries-old wizarding enclave out here at one time... though the few who were left have been gone since around the time you were born.”  
  
Hermione did not want to ruin the moment by asking him how he knew that particular history, or why he had visited the area previously. She had a feeling she knew who was responsible for the disappearances. The song ended and Severus pulled her into a tight embrace.  
  
“Let's get you home,” he said, his voice vibrating into her.  
  
They popped back to Grimmauld Place and Hermione stumbled against him, quickly turning her moment of clumsiness into an urgent kiss as she reached for the doorknob in the fading light of the sunset. It was locked, of course. Cursing, she pulled out her wand and quickly remedied the problem, then pushed him through it and slammed it shut behind them with her foot.  
  
He laughed, barely visible in the dark hall in front of her. She responded by grabbing his shirt and pulling him back to her, wrapping an arm around his neck. He resisted just enough to keep his lips out of her desperate reach.  
  
“Always in such hurry,” he said softly, brushing her hair back from her face with a light touch and slowly lowering his mouth to hers. He kissed her breathless, slowly intensifying his efforts, his hands beginning to roam her body, tongue and fingers alternating between the lightest of brushes and firm, confident movements.  
  
Hermione started to pull him toward the stairs and walked backwards up them, kissing him all the way. Halfway up, he bent her backwards and slipped his other arm under her legs, lifting her off her feet. She giggled.  
  
“Is this you sweeping me off my feet?”  
  
“You mean, I had not yet succeeded on that front?” he asked, and put her back down. Hermione shrieked in surprise when he suddenly threw her over his shoulder.  
  
“Is this... better?” he asked, as she laughed and clung to his body, the blood rushing to her head.  
  
“I don't care how you do it, just get us to the bedroom!” she said.  
  
“As you wish,” he replied, and made a beeline for the room. He gently rolled her onto the bed and then joined her. He took a moment to flick his wand at her bedside lamp, giving the room a warm glow. She took his wand and set it aside, putting hers with it on the nightstand.  
  
Turning back to him, she froze under his gaze, a bolt of heat searing through her abdomen and tightening her chest, bringing warmth to her face. Her lips parted, heavy with desire, pulsing along with her heartbeat. She licked them without thinking and saw his eyes fix on her mouth for a moment.  
  
He moved the hand that was resting on her knee up her thigh, around her back, and leaned over her, his mouth finally meeting hers again. He kissed her neck, then ran a hand under the thin material of her top and deftly undid her bra clasp. Hermione wiggled the straps down her arms and moments later tossed the garment to the floor.  
  
He touched the pert peak making itself known under her blouse and Hermione moaned as she felt another deep, strong tug of desire increase her desperation. She sat up and began to undo the buttons on his shirt, revealing a slim, pale torso and a dark trail of hair that immediately drew her eyes and hands down to his belt. Shifting position so that she could no longer reach the buckle that she had just unhooked, he tugged at the bottom of her blouse, prompting Hermione raise her arms as he peeled it up her body and over her head.  
  
Hermione basked in his appreciative gaze, smiling at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He bent down to minister to her chest with his mouth for a few moments before removing his open shirt and rolling onto his side next to her, tweaking her nipples as they resumed snogging. Hermione reached an arm down to pull off her skirt, which he noticed, and pushed her arm away.  
  
Leaning over her, he planted kisses down her abdomen, tickling her stomach with his hair as he went. It was all she could do not to beg him to hurry up. Her pants were already soaked through and sticking to her uncomfortably.  
  
His hands finally pulled the waistband of her skirt down past her hips. He planted a kiss on her through the black lace she had worn for the occasion, his tongue wetting the fabric lightly, sending a shiver through her body. She attempted to remove herself from the long skirt smoothly, kicking it off onto the floor behind them.  
  
“Now yours,” she demanded, sliding a foot up his thigh, using her toes to fiddle with the button on his trousers. He took hold of her foot and pushed it back down to the bed.  
  
“Not so fast,” he murmured, and slid his hands up her legs, over her hip bones, slipping his thumbs under the delicately patterned fabric and slowly revealing the last bit of her body to the cool air. After the small piece of lace joined the rest of her clothes on the floor, Hermione stretched out in front of him, reaching her arms over her head, bending one knee slightly, arching her back.  
  
“You are... exquisite,” he said.  
  
He gently took hold of her legs and put one foot over his shoulder, pushing the other out slightly, a low hum of approval escaping his lips. Hermione propped her head on a pillow and watched as his hand moved to touch her, transfixed by his deliberate manner and dark eyes that met hers as he slid his thumb over her slick, delicate skin, tracing a few slow circles that made her legs shudder.  
  
Her eyes closed momentarily. She heard rustling and felt the bed rock as he made himself comfortable on his stomach between her legs. She looked down to meet his eyes again and he thrust his thumb into her, making her gasp and buck involuntarily against his hand. He smiled devilishly and brought his mouth down to her expectant flesh at last.  
  
“Oh...” She could not help vocalizing her pleasure repeatedly as his tongue flicked and swirled expertly, bringing her to the brink and back a few times within minutes.  
  
“Please...” she said, after he once again denied her release. “Please...”  
  
“What would you have me do?” he asked silkily.  
  
“Fuck me!”  
  
The words sounded strange coming from her mouth, but most appropriate nonetheless. He laughed, eyes glittering.  
  
“All in good time,” he said, tasting her again, making her sensitive nerves twitch before he captured them and sucked lightly, using the tip of his tongue for punctuation.  
  
“Merlin!” she cried, writhing.  
  
“No... it's Severus,” he said sternly, lips vibrating against her, and she giggled, but could not reply because he began working on her with lips, tongue, and fingers in earnest, bringing her quickly gasping and trembling over the edge.  
  
He crawled up her limp body and kissed her, traces of her own arousal still on his lips. He pulled his belt from the loops on his trousers and tossed it aside. Hermione reached down to help him with the rest, releasing him at last by pulling both layers off his narrow hips at once. She was rewarded with the welcome sight of his full length standing up to greet her.  
  
Before she could do more than admire him from afar, he lay down and pressed his body against hers, rubbing himself over her tender wetness, until she could stand it no longer and lifted her hips to take him in. He groaned and thrust his own hips forward, filling her in one swift movement and pausing briefly before starting a glorious rhythm, bending his head down to kiss her. Hermione took in the sight of his lean, sinewy arms holding him above her and his abdominal muscles flexing as he moved, before her eyes closed and a fluttering sound of pleasure rose in her throat.   
  
“Look at me,” he whispered after a moment, and she obeyed. He held her gaze, and slowly she began to feel more than just her own pleasure building toward another release. The sensation was indescribable – she could tell exactly how close he was, and urged him to move faster.  
  
Though her eyes were still fixed on his, she was looking into and past them, visualizing their separate experiences as color and light, interwoven, growing brighter, until frantic black spots rushing and tearing through the waves of her mind pulled apart her concentration as she got nearer and nearer... suddenly she peaked and voiced her climax loudly, pulling her knees into her chest and inviting him deeper as he rode through it. He closed his eyes and held himself back, shuddering with the effort.  
  
“Severus...” She struggled to get words out, her mind demanding that he join her in release.  
  
He propped her feet up over his shoulders, shaking his hair out of his eyes, letting her feel his mind once again as he continued, his bodyweight resting more and more on the resistance of her legs until Hermione realized hazily that she was on the precipice yet again as well. He finally came with a drawn out, muted groan, and Hermione was blinded by the nearness of his mind as he succumbed, barely aware of him pulsing within her. She teetered on the brink. A few more pounding thrusts accompanied by guttural vocalizations were all it took, and she convulsed once more around him, her toes literally curling behind his head, pressing it forward as a self-satisfied smile appeared on his face.  
  
“Well, you've earned that smug look on your face,” she said as he lay down beside her.   
  
He trailed his fingers lightly from her hip, up her body, around her breast, and finally to her face. He pulled her head toward him for a forceful kiss, the final punctuation to their romp, it would seem, as he then flopped over on his back with a satisfied sigh and put one arm behind his head. The other invited her to lay against him and she melted into his body, feeling more like a warm, glowing puddle than a creature with bones, muscles, and most importantly, the ability to move.  
  
“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” he said, stretching his legs out and taking up most of the space on the bed. She wrapped a leg around his in protest, but he did not seem to mind.  
  
“What now?” Hermione asked. His eyes had closed. Without opening them, he replied.  
  
“In a moment, I shall make us dinner. After that... I should very much like to break my record tonight.”  
  
“What record is that?” she asked, grinning.  
  
“Thus far, the tally for the evening is three,” he said, rolling over to look at her, one eyebrow raised. They shared a kiss before she sighed.  
  
“I suppose I shall go clean up,” she said, intending to head to the loo. He stopped her with an arm around her waist, leaned over her, and took his wand from the nightstand.  
  
“Allow me,” he said, rolling her onto her back and trailing the tip of his wand in circles over the soft space between her hips, tapped it lightly a few times on her pubic bone, and then pointed it between her legs and gave a tiny flick. She immediately felt perfectly refreshed.  
  
“That's one spell I don't know,” she said, goosebumps covering her skin as her naked body finally cooled down from their encounter. She pulled the bed's comforter over her torso.  
  
“I should think not, since it is my own invention,” he said. “It encompasses contraception and protection as well.”  
  
Hermione rolled herself up in the blanket, snuggling into the bed. She felt the bed shake as his weight left it and turned her head to see him donning his trousers.  
  
“You mean you're not going to cook for me in the nude?” she asked, trying to sound supremely disappointed.  
  
He picked up her clothes and tossed them to her. They landed in a pile on her legs.  
  
“Perhaps one day,” he said. “When you have no roommates who may yet surprise us with a visit home.”  
  
“Harry said he wouldn't be back until Sunday,” she reminded him. “He thinks my parents are still here.”  
  
“Yes, and though he may wish to avoid them, it would not be outside the realm of possibility that he might have a reason to return to his own house before Sunday.”  
  
Hermione sighed. “Oh, all right... I suppose I can understand your desire not to be caught by Harry, naked, in his kitchen. If we _are_ ever caught, I do hope it is not – er – in a compromising position. He might never forgive us.”  
  
Hermione got up and dressed quickly. She attempted to help him with dinner, but ended up sitting at the table watching and talking to him as he worked. He was highly efficient in the kitchen, just as he was in the Potions lab, and soon their meal was ready with very little use of magic.  
  
Thankfully uninterrupted for the rest of the night, they ate a languid dinner followed by a few glasses of wine and later took a moonlit walk through the deserted streets, using the warm summer night as a break from their activities in the bedroom. Severus finally admitted, in the early hours of the morning before they went to sleep, that he had broken his record, but he wouldn't say when. They had far surpassed Hermione's hours earlier. Despite his previous display of caution regarding the possibility of Harry walking in on them, he allowed her to seduce him into a few compromising positions that night, including in the kitchen and in the upstairs hall in front of the large window overlooking the outside balcony.


	28. Meet the Grangers

After the first weekend Severus spent with Hermione at Grimmauld Place, it became significantly more risky to meet there, with Harry returning home at odd times, sometimes bringing Ginny with him. Severus more than once climbed out onto the upstairs balcony through the window in order to hastily Apparate away. Once, he had even hidden in the kitchen broom closet for twenty minutes before making his escape. Severus was quickly losing his patience with the charade.  
  
Since Alan already knew, or at least strongly suspected, Hermione sometimes joined Severus, Alan, and Margaret for lunch at The Angry Lark. If Margaret noticed that Severus seemed to be too familiar with his former student, she was the soul of discretion.  
  
There was no doubt in Severus' mind that he wanted to continue the relationship. He was well aware that despite the significant amount of maturity and wisdom she had gathered in her nearly twenty years on earth, Hermione was young and may yet change her mind about what she wanted. Whatever path she took, he hoped to be part of it. He did not wish for her to do anything differently on his account. Once Hermione started her job at the research lab, she began talking of getting her own flat in a Muggle neighborhood where they could spend time together with less risk of being found out.   
  
Unbeknownst to Hermione, Severus had set a few of the Hogwarts house-elves to the task of readying the house in Hogsmeade for inhabitation. It had been neglected for decades, as no one had lived there since before Dumbledore became headmaster. It would raise a few eyebrows for Severus to move into the residence alone, since most headmasters and headmistresses chose to live either at the school itself in the spacious quarters within the castle or in their own homes when not at school. However, if they were careful, the house could be a place to enjoy one another's company away from prying eyes. It was on the edge of town backed by thick woods, into which one might easily Apparate without being seen.  
  
Hermione wanted to become an Animagus. Severus had no doubt that she was capable of completing the process, but since she would not be willing to risk getting caught unregistered, the ability to transform into her animal form might not be that helpful. As soon as Hermione Granger's name went on the list at the Ministry, her specific Animagus form was sure to be widely-spread public knowledge. Hermione was optimistic that her form might be something small enough that she could still go unnoticed. At any rate, she was determined to complete the transformation at some point in the near future. She told Severus that ever since she had learned that Minerva was an Animagus, she had wanted to become one herself some day.  
  
Severus had never bothered to attempt the transformation. It was a long, tedious process and he had been interested in other, Darker forms of magic that might protect and disguise a wizard when he was younger, the only time in his life he had the leisure to complete the process and practice the transformation. The idea of becoming an Animagus was intriguing, but the fact that one had no control over the end form made the potential payoff for all the hard work less attractive.  
  
A wizard's Animagus form was often also that of his corporeal Patronus. Severus' Patronus had always shown his loyalty to Lily, and he had never known what sort of animal his Animagus form might take. Now it would seem a bat was a possibility, and while Severus had no objection to the animal himself, he was loathe to have anyone else discover that his Animagus form was indeed the same as the insult so often used to describe his appearance. The comparisons of himself to a night-dwelling, sallow-skinned vampire would never cease if the Ministry proclaimed that Severus Snape was indeed a bat. As Severus was already capable of Apparition and unsupported flight, the ability to turn into a bat seemed of little use.  
  
Hermione had convinced Minerva to help her complete the transformation over the summer. It had not taken much persuasion, as Hermione was one of only a few recent graduates with the skill and patience to complete the transformation process. Minerva was flattered that Hermione was interested in delving into the most advanced of Transfiguration skills, after choosing to pursue Potions the previous year instead. It had been obvious that the woman had expected to have Hermione under her tutelage as an advanced student, and that she had been highly disappointed when it had not happened. She now jumped at the chance to teach one of the most brilliant Gryffindor minds to come out of Hogwarts since her own academic legacy. If Minerva could have somehow combined the brilliant intellect, magical ability, and prowess on the Quidditch pitch from Hermione and Ginny Weasley into one person, she might have adopted the resulting child as her own daughter years ago.  
  
Minerva and Hermione met in Hogsmeade once a week for lunch before walking up to the castle to work on Hermione's transformation. Hermione had already completed the necessary paperwork to start the process of registering as an Animagus.  
  
One day, as Severus waited for Hermione, Alan, and Margaret to join him at The Angry Lark, he noticed a familiar grey tabby cat perched on the window sill from where he sat in the darkest corner of the establishment. The cat walked along the sill, tail flicking in the air, and disappeared. A few minutes later, Minerva walked through the door and approached the table where Severus sat.  
  
“Hello, Severus,” she said. “I suppose Margaret has told you she invited me today?”  
  
Severus nodded as Minerva sat down.  
  
“Well,” she said, smoothing her robes. “I was supposed to meet her at the Apothecary before coming over, but the Alan Petroski has already closed the shop and Margaret is nowhere to be found. Should I be worried?”  
  
Severus smirked, having some idea what the pair might be up to away from prying eyes.  
  
“Do not worry, Minerva, I imagine they will join us shortly.”  
  
“They?”  
  
“Margaret and Alan, of course,” he said, watching the surprise grow in her eyes. Margaret had not told her friend of her blossoming romance. To be fair, she had not told anyone at all, but Severus had been observing the two of them together for weeks.  
  
“Do you always travel through Diagon Alley in your Animagus form?” he asked.  
  
“I often do,” she replied. “I find it is preferable not to be immediately recognized, to avoid catching the notice of a reporter's camera or being spotted by students who cannot imagine I ever step foot outside the castle.”  
  
“They might well be surprised, since you are rarely in London,” said Severus. “You have nearly anything you might want within a few minutes walk in Hogsmeade.”  
  
“You are right,” said Minerva. “I greatly enjoy my quiet, peaceful summers in the village. I rarely wish to be in London, unless it is for the company of good friends.” The statement hung in the air, as she looked pointedly at Severus.  
  
“This place is a welcome change to the more crowded parts of magical London,” she continued. “I am not surprised you come here so often.”  
  
“Most days after lunch hours this place becomes crowded and filled with young folk wearing Muggle-inspired robes,” said Severus. “And after dinner the music becomes unbearably loud... but it is often empty at this time of day in the middle of the week.”  
  
Hermione appeared, and Severus wondered if Minerva had been expecting her star pupil to show up for lunch as well.  
  
“Hello, Professor McGonagall, it's nice to see you here! Professor Snape... where are Margaret and Alan?”  
  
Severus was amused by her careful use of his title even when she called the others by their first names. Minerva greeted Hermione with little surprise and the younger witch sat down casually by Severus.  
  
“They are late... as usual,” he said. Margaret might have bothered to show up on time when she had invited Minerva to join her. Neither Margaret nor Alan was particularly punctual for informal meetings and now that they had taken to arriving together they were even less inclined to care about the time.  
  
The witch and wizard in question finally arrived together, as Severus had assumed they would be.  
  
“There you are, Minerva! Sorry we're a bit late. Alan had a few errands to run and we completely lost track of time in the shops.”  
  
“In the... shops,” Severus repeated, drawing out the 's' just a bit. Alan's eyes were twinkling in an an unnerving way as he sat down beside Margaret.  
  
 _They were definitely not out shopping,_ thought Hermione. _I saw them leave the Apothecary together just before I got here._  
  
“Perhaps Alan might consider completing his errands alone in the future, in order to speed things along. Perhaps some... errands... might even wait until later," Severus said.  
  
Hermione hid a smile with her menu and made a point to read the specials aloud before Margaret could reply or Minerva could voice the confusion on her face.  
  
“So, Minerva, I hear from Hermione that you are assisting her with the Animagus transformation. That is an ambitious summer task for the both of you... how is it going?” asked Alan.  
  
“So far, so good,” replied Minerva. “At this rate she will have completed the process by mid- August.”  
  
“Have you any idea yet what form you might take?” Alan asked Hermione.  
  
“No,” said Hermione quickly. “Though based on my corporeal Patronus, I suppose it could be an otter, or a...”  
  
Severus peered at her impassively, surprised that he had not noticed that her Patronus had changed as well as his own.   
  
_Careful,_ he warned her, remembering that he still had not changed the password to his office, and both Margaret and Minerva were sure to remember that it was...  
  
“...hummingbird,” Hermione finished.  
  
Sure enough, a flicker of recognition crossed Minerva's face. Margaret seemed unfazed.  
  
“Your Patronus form has changed recently?” asked Alan with much interest.  
  
“Er, yes, it has... though I don't know how recent it was, since I don't have a reason to cast the Patronus charm anymore now that the war is over.”  
  
“A Patronus form does not necessarily predict one's Animagus form,” said Minverva. “Especially if the corporeal Patronus has changed due to spiritual growth or one's emotional state. The Animagus form is based on a person's appearance, personality traits, and life experience up until the point that the form is first taken. The markings can later change based on any of those factors, but the animal type of the form will always stay the same.”  
  
Margaret frowned. “Now, that I did not know. I suppose any changes must be reported?”  
  
Minerva nodded and said, “Every two years, an Animagus must perform the transformation in front of a Ministry official for a renewal of registration, at which time any changes in markings are recorded.”  
  
Margaret shook her head and said, “Never mind the fact that I would be terrified of botching the transformation, it sounds like more trouble than it's worth. I commend both your and Hermione's commitment to the study of Transfiguration.”  
  
“It would seem that Hermione is not satisfied to stop at N.E.W.T.-level knowledge of nearly all magical subjects,” said Severus.  
  
Minerva smiled at Hermione and Margaret laughed. “You say that as if it's a bad thing!” she said.  
  
“It was merely an observation. It is surprising that she was not sorted into Ravenclaw.”  
  
“The hat _did_ seriously consider it,” said Hermione, “but in the end it sent me to Gryffindor.”  
  
Minerva continued to smile at Hermione.

“The same thing happened to me, dear,” she said. “I think we were sorted well in the end. It had to be fate that put you in the same house as Harry and Ron.”  
  
Hermione nodded and said, “I can't imagine having been anywhere else.”  
  
The five of them ordered. Severus spent the rest of their meal speaking primarily to Alan and Hermione about Potions while Margaret and Minerva caught up after a few weeks apart. Minerva was normally a social creature, but in the summers she became the stereotypical Ravenclaw recluse, holed away in her cottage with her books.  
  
As usual, Hermione and Severus kept a second conversation running in their thoughts. By the time their friends were ready to part ways, Severus had convinced Hermione to Apparate into Hogsmeade after work, meeting him at the forgotten end of the village in the thick woods behind the empty headmaster's house.  
  
He waited for her in the cover of the trees for quite some time before the soft pop of Apparition signaled her arrival a few feet away to his left.  
  
“Severus?” she whispered.  
  
He stepped around a few trees and she saw him. She was still wearing her work robe, her hair a large, frizzy mass that had started to escape from her bun.  
  
“Why are we in Hogsmeade when we can't go into the village?” she asked.  
  
“Follow me,” he said, turning and leading her out of the trees. They walked across the modest back yard surrounded by tall hedges, which had yet to be trimmed back.  
  
“We're going inside?” asked Hermione, as they approached the back porch. Severus walked up the steps and unlocked the back door. He held it open and waited for her to join him. Upon entering the back hall she exclaimed, “You're moving to Hogsmeade!”  
  
The house was now clean from top to bottom, something nobody would guess from the current state of the outside. Paintings of the castle, surrounding landscape, and the village decorated the walls, all freshly uncovered and dusted. Antique furniture, mirrors, and lamps had been returned to their places from storage and polished, and the floors shone even in the dim light coming in from the curtained windows.  
  
Severus followed Hermione as she explored the house. When they came back downstairs, Severus nodded toward the small door in the kitchen.  
  
“Would you like to see the rest?” he asked.  
  
“Oh! I thought that was a closet!” She turned the door knob and revealed a narrow set of stairs leading to the basement. They descended into what was now a fully-stocked workroom.  
  
“It's perfect,” she said, turning to him. “I can see you spending hours down here, everything arranged to be just at your fingertips.”  
  
“I was hoping you might occasionally be here as well,” he said flatly, and she laughed.  
  
“Well, of course, though it's rather close to the village. We'll have to be careful.”  
  
“Though, a great deal less careful than we are in our current... situation.”  
  
“I suppose,” she said. “You _are_ right, but I think we could trust Harry to keep our secret if he happened to find out. Not so for anyone living in Hogsmeade.”  
  
“However trustworthy he might be, I will not have Harry Potter knowing my secrets until I'm bloody well ready to share them.”  
  
“I know it's killing you to come to that house all the time. Meeting here will be a great improvement,” she said, hopping up to sit on one of the work tables and leaning back on her hands.  
  
“A house to ourselves...” she said, trailing off as she stared at him.  
  
Severus had removed his robe, now wearing only an undershirt and his usual black trousers. She smiled as he approached her perch and she undid the button that held her work robe closed at her neck. Severus helped her with the rest, a row of toggles down the robe front.  
  
She shrugged out of it and dropped it to the floor. She took a moment to tie her hair back once again, revealing tiny damp ringlets along her hairline when she pulled it into a tight bun.  
  
“Much better,” she said, now attired in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were cropped above her knees.  
  
“I really hate wearing so many layers in this weather. I'm tempted to wear nothing but a robe most days.”  
  
“Many magical folk do,” he replied.  
  
“Do you ever?” she asked.  
  
He placed his hands on either side of her on the table, and leaned in inches from her face.  
  
“Ever... what?”  
  
“Go starkers under your robe?”  
  
He kissed her before replying. “No.”  
  
“Shame. I wouldn't have to work so hard to get your clothes off.”  
  
“You do not know how easy you've had it, witch.”  
  
Hermione laughed. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you going to start dressing in even more layers? With more buttons?”  
  
“Eventually the weather will necessitate it.”  
  
Hermione reached out and ran her hands over his shirt. “No buttons today, though,” she said.  
  
Severus felt an intense heat coming off her palms and then a cool rush of air as his undershirt disappeared. It was now in her hands. Had that been Wandless Magic or sleight of hand? He had been looking at her face the entire time, but was certain that her hands had not left his body long enough to produce a wand. She smirked at him as she tossed the shirt aside and pulled her own shirt over her head. He pulled her hips toward him and she slid to the edge of the table, hands roaming over his chest and back as she kissed him.  
  
After they had properly christened the new workroom and reclothed themselves, Severus led her back upstairs to the kitchen.  
  
“Dinner?” he asked.  
  
“Please. Can I help you with anything?”  
  
He set her to the task of making a salad, and true to her family's habit produced a small glass of wine for each of them to sip while they worked. When they sat down to their meal at last, Hermione stole a glance at him as she took her first bite.  
  
“So... can I ask you something?” she asked.  
  
“Hermione Granger asking permission to question me... this must be serious,” he observed.  
  
“I know that you can fly unsupported,” she said. “Would you... teach me?”  
  
Severus was only surprised that it had taken her so long to ask. After a few moments, he replied, “You will not want to try it.”  
  
Her brow creased. “Is it Dark Magic? I suppose it must be since it was Voldemort's spell...”  
  
Severus began to feel quite smug as he revealed the truth. “It was not the Dark Lord's invention.”  
  
Her mouth fell open.  
  
“It was you!” she said. “You discovered a way to achieve unsupported flight, and you're not telling anyone! You're going to let the spell die with Voldemort, since even those who know he could do it think it was done by some kind of horrible Dark Magic. Er... it's not some kind of horrible Dark Magic, is it? Is that why you said I would not want to try it?”  
  
Severus knew that nothing would stop her from learning about the spell, and was thankful that it was not truly Dark in nature. It could, however, be twisted and fed by Dark Magic, which was how Voldemort had used it to great effect.  
  
“No,” he said after a pause. “The spell does not require the use of Dark Magic. However, you have a fear of heights, which would make it nearly impossible to get off the ground, let alone sustain flight.”  
  
“I could get over it,” said Hermione with determination, the light in her eyes telling him that she would not rest until one day she was able to fly.  
  
“I have no doubt that you could,” he said. “Something to consider, though, is that this magic, like Legilimency, is now strongly associated with the Dark Lord. It must be practiced in secrecy. If it was known that I helped Voldemort gain the power of flight...”  
  
“That would not be good,” she agreed, then fell silent for a moment. “So, why _did_ you help him learn to fly?”  
  
“Do you imagine I was given a choice in the matter?” he asked, a bit too sharply.  
  
Some of the softness left her eyes. “I'm not accusing you of wanting to... I want to know how you happened to discover flight and how Voldemort ended up taking the credit!”  
  
Severus took a few more bites of his meal before clearing his throat.  
  
“When I was younger – about your age – I was determined that one day I would be able to fly without being tethered to some sort of ridiculous magical object. Much of the work that went into the invention of the spell was done before I was in the Dark Lord's service, but I got stuck, lost momentum, and abandoned the idea. Just before the end of his first reign of terror, Voldemort happened to see some of my memories related to the development of a flying spell. He became obsessed with making it a reality, using my ideas, which at the time were based on using Dark Magic as a means of achieving flight. I had wanted to make the spell... unpalatable to the general population. If not, then anyone would be able to do it and it would lose its appeal.”  
  
Severus watched Hermione carefully as he said, “So I felt at the time, and naturally, the idea greatly intrigued the Dark Lord. Once he returned and had established himself again, Voldemort renewed his interest in the power of unsupported flight. He wanted to show his supporters and the rest of the magical world that he was superior, and what better way than to invent a flying spell? Unsuccessful after a year on his own, he conscripted me to help him work on what was originally my own idea.  
  
“It was now years after my first work on the subject, and I realized what I would never have considered the first time around: that the spell could easily be strengthened by Dark Magic, but that its essential nature must be pure and free from such influence. It requires both the complete absence of doubt and fear, which requires either great stupidity or else the ability to clear one's mind before flight, and the ability to perform Wandless Magic while simultaneously using one's wand to initially levitate off the ground. Once in the air, a wand is necessary to aid in speed and direction of flight, and to stay aloft if there is a break in one's concentration. It may also be used to cast other spells. The Dark Lord was beside himself when I made the breakthrough before him, and promised to kill me if I so much as hinted that I was the one responsible for the discovery.”  
  
Hermione frowned. “How did he make it Dark, then?”  
  
“Though he was a great Legilimens, the Dark Lord was not skilled at keeping a clear mind through Occlumency, possibly because he had created so many Horcruxes at that point. Anger and frustration made flight erratic and unpredictable for him. His soul was split into so many fragments that it was hard to predict how his emotions would affect him in flight. While he was unfazed by self-doubt at that point, he was still able to feel rage to a greater degree than any normal mind could, with little warning to even himself when it happened. To keep himself in flight with less effort, he employed much darker and more dangerous forms of control over his mind than any sane person would dare. Instead of suppressing his rage, he used it to summon a powerful Dark shield of magic around his mind, fueled by anger, forming a barrier between his mind and the magic that held him in the air. He created a contained, burning source of hate-fueled Dark energy in his mind, separated enough from the magic he employed to fly that he was able to channel that power into flight without losing control.”  
  
Hermione stared at him, intrigued. “So... he did not do it properly, but because he was already so Dark and vile, it worked out for him in the end?”  
  
“Indeed,” said Severus. “If his mind had not already been so damaged, his method of sustaining flight would have made it so.”  
  
Hermione studied him thoughtfully and said, “If one must be a skilled Occlumens to fly, it would not be a useful spell to many people. Perhaps only us and some of the Aurors.”  
  
“There are likely no more than a few Aurors with the skill to achieve flight,” Severus agreed, smirking. He was glad that Potter would likely never be one of them.  
  
Hermione cleared the table and they retreated to the back porch, which was hidden from outside view by the overgrown hedges and large trees surrounding the property.  
  
“I love this place,” she said, sitting down beside him on the cushioned love seat in front of the kitchen window. “I'm so happy you've decided to live in Hogsmeade. Though I would like to see your old house before you sell it.”  
  
“You have already seen it,” he reminded her, for many of the memories he had shared with her had taken place in Spinner's End.  
  
“Yes, I suppose I have,” she said. “But it's not the same as actually being there.”  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
She was silent for a moment. “No, it doesn't... if you'd rather not go back. It's just that it's a part of you that I know about, but have never seen myself. Curiosity is all it is, I suppose... I'm sorry. Do you have any good memories of the place?”  
  
Severus considered the question seriously. He could not come up with one happy thing that had happened to him inside his childhood home. Even the few good memories he had of his mother were of the times they had escaped the confines of that sad place together: to the backyard, the grocery store, and on rare occasions, the park.  
  
“No.”  
  
Silence stretched on again and she lay her head on his shoulder. “I think I'm going to visit my parents at the end of August. It's my dad's birthday on the eighteenth, and my mum's on the twenty-fourthh.”  
  
Severus sensed there was more to that statement, and waited for her to continue.  
  
“Would you...” She paused. “Do you want to come with me? I was thinking I would take a long weekend, leave after work on the eighteenth and stay through the twenty-second.”  
  
Severus did not want to go to Australia. Taking a weekend off just before school began would mean more work to be done in the last week leading up to the arrival of students. Her parents were Muggles who were not especially impressed with the magical world or happy about losing their daughter to it, and probably would rather Hermione remain single forever than date a much-older wizard. They could certainly not be told that said wizard had also been her professor and headmaster, or that he had worked closely with the Dark wizard who had started the war that caused Hermione to ultimately modify their memories and send them to Australia.  
  
“What in Merlin's magical bollocks would possess you to think that is a good idea?”  
  
She sighed and said, “I know it's a terrible idea. It's too soon, we'll have to lie about who you are and how we met... but I hate the idea of missing another weekend with you when the summer's nearly over. I'll be with McGonagall the weekend before that, completing my Animagus transformation."  
  
Severus said nothing. She continued, “They will be highly impressed with your skill in the kitchen, and that is saying something because they love to cook.”  
  
“I'm beginning to think that is the only reason you keep me around,” he said with some amusement. “Has no wizard has ever cooked for you before?”  
  
“You know very well the answer is no, and most witches can't cook either,” she said. “It really is appalling, the state of magical home-cooked cuisine! Too much magic, not enough variety or flavor!”  
  
Severus draped an arm over her shoulder without a word.  
  
“Anyway, it's not the _only_ reason I keep you around,” she said in her infamous know-it-all voice, which then turned softer. “You have other talents I greatly enjoy as well.”  
  
“Very well,” he said. “I shall go to Australia, but only for the weekend. I have too much to do at the castle to be away longer than that at the end of August.”  
  
She laughed. “You're serious? About meeting my parents? Merlin, I did _not_ expect that!”  
  
Another silence followed, during which he became aware of a multitude of warm emotions bubbling up in her consciousness.  
  
“Tell me about your parents,” he said. “If I am to meet them, I must know something about them first.”  
  
She looked up at him as she said, “Ah, well... you already know they're dentists who love to cook. They also love their wine. If you talk wine with my father you may never get him to stop.”  
  
She sat all the way up and turned toward him as she spoke. “They are... sort of old, I suppose. Mum is turning fifty-seven this year, dad will be fifty-one. As you might gather from their age difference, they are not, er... very traditional. I don't think they were expecting me, though they have never admitted it. Uh, let's see... very logical people, they love to debate one another even though they agree on most everything, so someone is usually playing devil's advocate.”  
  
Severus leaned back comfortably as Hermione continued, “Dad is the peace maker whenever Mum and I have a row. He says he doesn't like cats, but I know he misses Crookshanks. They both love to travel, but especially Dad, who also loves camping, much to Mum's horror. Though I think she would like wizard camping, as it's much more civilized.”  
  
She smiled and asked, “Er, what else do you want to know?”  
  
Severus learned a lot about Mr. and Mrs. Granger that evening, who apparently still went publicly by the names Hermione had given them when she sent them to Australia. To everyone but Hermione, Severus, and their few remaining relatives, they were the Wilkins. To Severus, they would be Jim and Ellen.  
  
He was neither looking forward to the visit, nor dreading it. With Hermione's information and some lies of omission, he was confident they could convince her parents to accept him. Hermione claimed that despite recent mistrust of the magical world due to years of secrecy and Hermione's decision to modify their memories, they were generally open-minded people.  
  
Weeks later, Severus stood waiting for Hermione to join him in the backyard at the house in Hogsmeade. Sitting on the back porch steps with his modest packed bag, he watched the sun fall lower in the sky over the neatly-trimmed hedges. A few bats flew erratically overhead, searching for their evening meal. A smaller shape zoomed overhead in much smoother flight, and Severus immediately recognized her. It was Hermione's tiny hummingbird form, which came to land in front of him. Her head was marked with brown and gold-flecked feathers, which continued down her back, and there was a rust red spot on her chest. Seconds later, Hermione stood before him.  
  
“Show off,” he said lightly, and she took a small bow.  
  
“Ready?” she asked, beckoning him toward her with an outstretched arm.  
  
He walked over and took her arm. She gave it a light squeeze before Apparating them to her parents' backyard, where a surprisingly calm middle-aged Muggle couple sat in wooden lawn chairs, beverages in hand. On a nearby table sat a pitcher and a couple more glasses. A delicious smell wafted over from the grill behind them.  
  
“Mum, Dad,” said Hermione. “This is Severus. Severus, this is my mum, Ellen, and my Dad, Jim.”  
  
Her parents stood and offered their hands.  
  
“Hello,” said her mother, looking up at him. She was about an inch shorter than Hermione.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Severus,” said her father, giving his hand a firm shake and flashing him a familiar smile. It was the same as Hermione's.  
  
She had inherited his warm brown eyes as well, but in every other respect she was her mother's clone: the mass of frizzy curls growing larger in the humid air, the petite frame, and the same nose with a spattering of tiny freckles across it. Her mother's eyes, however were hazel, and sharp with curiosity as she studied Severus from her place beside Jim Granger.  
  
“Would you care for some ginger lemonade?” she asked, pouring Hermione a glass.  
  
“Yes... thank you,” he said, watching Hermione sip her beverage and give a slight nod of approval.  
  
“It's Ellen's new favorite drink,” said Jim, helping himself to a refill as Ellen handed him a glass. “Our receptionist gave us the recipe.”  
  
“It's good!” said Hermione. “It's got the perfect amount of ginger, and it's not too sweet.”  
  
“Thank you, dear,” said her mother, smiling. She watched Severus as he lifted his glass for a taste.  
  
He was pleasantly surprised with the tart flavor and mild heat from the fresh ginger root.  
  
“Do I detect lime?” he asked, taking another sip.  
  
One corner of Ellen's mouth raised in a smile, and her eyebrows shot up.  
  
“You just might,” she said.  
  
“So, Severus,” Jim said after a few silent moments had passed. “I believe you and Hermione met at work?”  
  
"We worked on a project together," said Severus. "However, we did meet often before that...at the Apothecary which I frequent when my personal stores run low. I believe you have met Alan Petroski?"  
  
Ellen nodded and said, "We have. Hermione says he was a wonderful mentor."  
  
"Indeed.”  
  
“She also says you are the most talented, ah, Potions Master she knows... how does one come to be a Potions Master?”  
  
“Study under another Potions Master or Mistress,” replied Severus. “It was also Alan who oversaw my certification.”  
  
"How long does it take for one to become certified?" asked Jim.  
  
"That depends on the nature of one's concentration," said Severus. "For lab work and research, about eight months of part-time work with a Potions Master who is certified in instruction."  
  
"I imagine it won't be long before Hermione decides it's time for her to pursue certification," said Jim, obviously proud of his daughter's work ethic.  
  
"Yes. I still haven't decided exactly which certification I want," said Hermione. "But as long as it's related to my job, I can get permission to leave work early a couple days a week and work on it. I will even get a continuing education stipend from the research lab."  
  
"Very good," said Jim. "You are lucky to have such a generous employer – they sound quite progressive for the magical world."  
  
Jim spoke from the grill, which he opened before asking, “Are we ready for dinner?”  
  
Hermione flashed Severus a relieved look as her parents prepared the table. She had been worried her parents would be overly curious about the details of how they met, but it seemed they were satisfied for the moment. It seemed her parents were satisfied with Severus in general. Hermione had told them his last name was “Slate”. If the relationship lasted long enough they would eventually be told the truth of who Severus was, if not the whole truth of how Hermione had ended up in a relationship with him. They were curious about his family – Hermione had told them he was a half-blood wizard.  
  
“So you grew up as a Muggle?” asked Ellen with interest.  
  
“Not... entirely,” Severus replied, noticing that Hermione appeared nervous about the vein of conversation. “My mother did tell me about our magical family, the magical world, and of course, Hogwarts, where she hoped I would be accepted. Until I was about six or seven, she occasionally used magic when my father was not around and taught me some simple spells. Knowing I might one day escape into the world of magic was my only solace during an impoverished childhood. My father was... inconsistent and unreliable, to say the least. Mother worked when she could, but at that time there were few opportunities for a poor, and, by all Muggle respects, vastly uneducated young mother.”  
  
Hermione's parents fell silent, no doubt wondering if they had touched a nerve with their questions. Hermione moved the conversation on, and Severus happily fell silent and listened as her parents talked at length about the small town where Hermione had relocated them.  
  
“It really is lovely here,” said her mother. “If I hadn't been so very angry with her for daring to do such a thing while she ran off to fight a war... I would have been able to admit sooner just how much I like it here. She did a good job choosing a new home for us. I do enjoy being so near to Rockhampton.”  
  
“I did my research, first!” exclaimed Hermione. “I didn't just plop you down any old place and leave!”  
  
Jim brought Severus a beer after their meal and offered one to Hermione, who politely declined, but begged a sip of Severus' all the same. Then, she and Ellen slipped a little something into the last two glasses of lemonade and Jim lit a fire in the pit as the last of the sunset colored the sky with dusky red and orange hues. The four of them sat in the orange glow and stared into the dancing flames. As it was still winter in Australia, and not a particularly hot day, a slight evening chill urged them to move their chairs closer to the fire. Severus and Hermione moved their chairs together until they were touching, and her parents shared the wicker loveseat, her father's arm draped over her mother's shoulders.  
  
Severus had worn clothes that passed as Muggle for the evening: a pair of black trousers and a thin white button down linen shirt. Hermione found it amusing that he owned nothing with any color other than a Slytherin green scarf, one deep green jumper, and a set of green-trimmed dress robes that he had worn exactly one time before. Everything else in his wardrobe was black, white, and a scant few shades of grey.  
  
“Do you realize that in the Muggle world, you dress like the wait staff?” she had asked once, with a smile.  
  
“Then it is just as well that I prefer the magical world,” he had said, “where I may dress as I please. Muggles have far too many rules for their clothing.”  
  
After the fire died out a few drinks later, they retreated inside and settled into the comfortable living room.   
  
“Hermione, you must see this film I have on DVD,” said her father, pulling out a small, thin box covered in pictures and small print. He opened the box and pulled out a shiny disc not much larger than his palm. Pointing a remote at the array of electronic devices in front of him, a whirring noise signaled that one had been activated. A short series of clicks followed and a tray opened from a device by his shoulder on the shelf.  
  
Hermione giggled, causing her parents to look over.  
  
“Too much lemonade, dear?” asked her mother.  
  
“No, I'm laughing because Severus has never seen a DVD before, and he looks so curious at the moment. I only know what they are because Dad is determined to keep up with the march of new technology. It is so strange, being from a different world than your own family.”  
  
“Yes, it is,” said Ellen.  
  
“Soon, technology might be able to do things even magic can't,” said Hermione. “At least I will be able to keep up with it, thanks to Dad.”  
  
They watched the film, and Hermione began to fall asleep on Severus' shoulder about half-way through. He managed to wake her before anyone seemed to notice, as the credits played.  
  
“Well, I've set up the guest bedroom upstairs, and the new one we've just finished off the kitchen,” said Ellen. “You may choose between yourselves where you go, but I will say that the new room is very nice.”  
  
“You can have it, then,” said Hermione. “I miss my old bed that's in the upstairs room. However, I'd to see the new room. May we have the tour?”  
  
Ellen and Jim showed them into the small but attractively decorated room, with pale grey walls, bold white and navy patterned throw pillows on the simple white bedspread, a small nightstand with a lamp, and a tiny closet on the opposite wall from the window. Severus summoned his bag, and Ellen jumped reflexively as it soared past her head.  
  
“Easy, Mum! It's just a Summoning Spell,” said Hermione, grinning at her.  
  
Her parents said goodnight and went upstairs to prepare for bed. Hermione sat on the bed after hugging them and watched them go. Severus stood by the door.  
  
“Well, they seem to like you well enough,” said Hermione.  
  
Hermione stood and walked over to him for a kiss. “Goodnight.”  
  
The next morning, Severus woke before the rest of the house and took it upon himself to make some coffee. Crookshanks soon brought Hermione trailing down the stairs after him in the dim morning light. The two of them set about making breakfast a short while later, surprising her early-riser parents.  
  
The rest of the weekend went smoothly. They spent an afternoon in the city, visited a brewery, ate a few delicious meals, and Hermione gave her parents a tour through the wizarding streets of the city that were normally hidden from their view. Severus had never been to Australia, so Hermione was his guide as well. He was mildly horrified by the obnoxious fashion tastes of the magical folk down under, but he was prepared for it – he had been warned by Hermione that his dour black robes would earn him curious stares.  
  
Severus left Hermione in Australia and returned to Hogwarts on Sunday afternoon. She would stay another night and Apparate to work the next morning. They would soon know what her parents truly thought of him. Severus was not overly concerned with the outcome of the visit, but he knew Hermione would be upset if her parents did not approve. It seemed that she desperately wanted to make up for last few years of distance from her family. A few days later, Hermione bounced into the kitchen of the house in Hogsmeade, where she found Severus eating his lunch with a book for company until she arrived.  
  
“You have some news,” he observed calmly, as his book shut itself and fell to the table.  
  
“I do!” she said, waving a letter at him. “This is from my mother. It's about you. Well, most of it, anyway.”  
  
He eyed the single sheet of paper as she unfolded it and began to read.  
  
 _“It was wonderful to meet Severus at last. It's great that you have found someone who is not afraid of us 'Muggles' and does not treat us like some kind of zoo exhibit. I'm so glad that he grew up in a Muggle neighborhood and understands us. He is obviously a good bit older than you (and don't think I didn't notice that you danced around that subject!). I had always hoped that you would either wait until you were older to date, or find someone more mature than your peers. You are an old soul – you can blame your old parents for that – you don't need to waste your time dating silly young boys. I can tell you are happy, and that Severus will not distract you from your ambitions. He seems to be incredibly supportive. I suppose it helps that you are both in the same field – that certainly worked out for your father and I!”_  
  
Hermione paused. “Uh, and then she wrote a semicolon and an parenthesis... which I think is a wink. Apparently Mum and Dad have gotten into texting – er, which is sending short-hand text messages via those cell phones they showed us the other night.”  
  
Severus finished his sandwich as Hermione folded the note back into her robes.  
  
“So, they like you,” she said in conclusion.  
  
“Indeed,” he said, wondering if these things were not official in her family until they were in writing.   
  
“One day we'll tell them the truth,” she said. “After they love you as much as I do.”


	29. The Truth Will Out

Hermione's twenty-first birthday came and passed with a simple celebration at The Burrow with most of the Weasleys, Harry, Neville, and Luna. Hermione received a birthday card and a letter from Tracey Davis, who was now living in London with Greg, working for St. Mungo's producing and researching healing potions for the hospital.

Hermione had attended her wedding the previous year at the end of September.  
  
Ron and Padma married over a year ago, and Harry and Ginny's wedding would be the second weekend in October. They had been engaged since the previous Halloween, living together at Grimmauld Place since Christmas. Hermione had her own little flat on a Muggle street, where she and Severus had enjoyed many evenings together. However, her favorite place to be was the house in Hogsmeade. She only wished they could take leisurely walks together through the quaint village and the surrounding paths and trails.  
  
Hermione was not jealous of her friends, who for the most part were either married, engaged, or seemed to be headed in that direction. She was happy for them, but also puzzled that they all seemed ready to settle into married life and would probably start families within a year or two. Ernie proposed to Hannah Abbot. Even Neville and Luna were contemplating the commitment, or at least Neville was, if Harry was to be believed. It was strange to both Hermione and her parents that magical folk seemed to all marry young. Hermione chalked the phenomenon up to decades of political turmoil and war, with only a brief period of peace to allow for the building of families in between the fighting.  
  
Margaret had another explanation for the large number of witches and wizards that married before their twentieth birthdays. She said that it was thought that even though having magic in one's blood caused a slower rate of aging, this was only true after entering adulthood. Magical blood tended to speed up aging in children, which is why they were deemed ready for advanced magical instruction at the tender young age of eleven, and why they were considered full adults by the age of seventeen. From the start of puberty until around sixteen or seventeen, witches and wizards generally looked older than their Muggle counterparts. Once reaching maturity, though, they seemed to stay suspended in their twenties, keeping a youthful appearance and vitality that Muggles could only dream of for decades. It was Margaret's opinion that most magical young folk were not as prone to the immaturity and youthful inconsistencies of young Muggles.  
  
Hermione was not sure she shared Margaret's views, knowing how immature some of her friends had been while at Hogwarts, but she had to admit that by the time they had returned to Hogwarts to belatedly complete their seventh year, everyone had settled down quite a bit. Even Lavender Brown had morphed into a more sedate version of herself by second term. Hermione had assumed it was due to the sobering aftermath of fighting and surviving a war, but perhaps Margaret's conventional wisdom was correct. The older witch had spent significantly more time around young Muggles than Hermione, after all.  
  
Hermione did not know if it was her upbringing or the allure of her many ambitious academic pursuits, but she was nowhere close to wanting a mundane married life or children to occupy her time. Perhaps one day she would feel some kind of maternal ache, but that day was yet far off in her future. While she had no doubts now that she and Severus would remain together, she did not require a proposal to feel secure in the relationship. After all, she knew his mind so well.  
  
Furthermore, a wizard's marriage frankly scared Hermione. Marriage in the magical world invoked ancient love rituals, and though they did not use Blood Magic anymore, the ceremony was not to be taken lightly. The rate of divorce in the magical world was practically nonexistent, possibly since ceremonial magic encouraged couples to smooth over differences and become more likely to compromise. Depending on how the vows were recited, one partner might end up doing most of the compromising. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that often the so-called compromise was really just overlooking infidelity, neglect, or even abuse. She was ambivalent about magical marriage on principal – not because she worried that Severus would take advantage of the magical vows.  
  
Hermione would be content to be with Severus for the foreseeable future without ever taking formal vows. The past year had proven to her that she had not made a mistake when she chose to act on her feelings for him. The voice of reason in the back of her mind had tried to tell her that she was just a foolish, infatuated school girl, and would likely regret pursuing her former professor. It had insisted that if he did indeed accept her advances, she should immediately run in the opposite direction. It was the advice Hermione would have given to any other young witch in the same situation, but in her particular case it would have been bad advice. She was happy with Severus.  
  
Over a year had passed since their secret affair began, and it had passed quickly. Hermione never would have imagined that a relationship with him (or anyone else) could be so easy and uncomplicated. Perhaps, superficially so, since they did not yet have to deal with any of the repercussions that would surface when friends and family learned the truth.  
  
Hermione was torn between enjoying the privacy and wishing to end the charade. Severus might be happy to keep it a secret forever. He was not interested in the attention it would garner, the questions that would be raised, or the misguided concern that would surely be heaped upon both of them for their choice of partner. Hermione agreed with him for most of the year, but as the months marched on she found herself wishing she could just tell someone the truth – or at least, part of it. Obviously, what she knew about his past she would never share with another soul, but she wished she could let someone know that he was not the callous, bitter recluse he let almost everyone believe he was.  
  
Severus was far from callous, and he was no longer a bitter man, whatever he may have been in the past. She often marveled that he had survived the war in his role as a spy and second-hand man to both his masters without losing his sanity. It nothing short of miraculous, but Hermione could share that revelation with no one. He hid his heart in layers of sarcastic wit and barbed observations of the world around him. To all but Hermione and a few select friends, he was closed-off and distrustful. Even with her, he rarely spoke his heart aloud, choosing instead to flood her thoughts with his feelings if the moment called for it.  
  
She and Severus returned to Australia the evening of her twenty-first birthday to celebrate with her parents before Severus took her out to dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in the wizarding part of Rockhampton. They stayed up late with her parents, then Apparated back to Hogsmeade to finish the night properly, and got very little sleep. Hermione had never kept so many late nights in her life, but she did not miss the sleep. In the scope of her limited intimate experiences, Severus was by far the most sensual and skilled.   
  
Hermione had not felt so much as a hint of attraction to Severus until she became acquainted with his mind and began to appreciate the nuances of his mannerisms: the sure, graceful, and precise movements of his hands, his commanding way of walking into a room, and the small gestures and expressions that communicated volumes when he spoke. Now, one look from his piercing dark eyes could melt her body into a boneless puddle in seconds. His voice and the tone of his thoughts could easily make her drunk with desire, ambushing her poor mind even in the middle of mundane conversations.  
  
She loved the way he towered over her, all long limbs and calloused hands, his often unkempt raven hair tickling her when he leaned down for a kiss. She loved every part of him, even his penchant for dramatic black robes that swept after him over the stone floors of Hogwarts and picked up dust on the streets of Hogsmeade.

Waking late the morning after her birthday, Hermione realized that she was alone in the large, comfortable bed loaded down with a thick warm comforter, numerous pillows, and a fluffy throw wrapped around her feet, where Crookshanks slept.  
  
It was a Monday, so of course Severus was already back at the castle. He must have gotten only a few hours of sleep if he had gone to breakfast in the great hall. Hermione went downstairs to see what she could scrounge up for breakfast, grateful that foresight had persuaded her to take a vacation day. Entering the kitchen, she smiled at the sight of a hot breakfast sitting underneath a stasis charm bubble.  
  
She and Crookshanks had breakfast and settled down in the large comfy chair in the library with a cup of tea and a book. After a while, she noticed that the morning rain showers had subsided and the sun was peeking through the clouds. She went out to sit on the back porch, carrying her book with her.  
  
It was not long before Nettie appeared. She always seemed to know when Crookshanks was in Hogsmeade. The two kneazles rolled around in the grass playfully and caught insects while Hermione became engrossed in her book and time slipped away. She did look up once when Nettie suddenly jumped up from where she lay with Crookshanks on the porch and bounded away, off into the forest. Crookshanks yowled in protest, but was ultimately too lazy to do more than roll over and drift off into sleep once again. Nettie would return soon enough, as she always did.  
  
Eventually, a loud call and the flapping of wings brought Hermione's eyes up to gaze at the large black raven perched on the porch railing. It cocked its head to study her with large, almond-shaped black eyes that shone with intelligence. Its shiny black plumage boasted a greenish sheen in the bright daylight, and it gripped the wooden rail with exceptionally long-taloned feet at the end of long spindly legs.  
  
“Back already?” she asked, smiling. The raven hopped down to the porch near her feet and soon its overlarge beak disappeared, replaced by the large, familiar nose on the face of her lover. She had convinced Severus to find his Animagus form, and led him through the transformation.   
  
“Already?” Severus asked, rebuking her with a look. “It is well past lunch, which I assume you have forgotten to eat?”  
  
Hermione waved her hand dismissively.  
  
“I wasn't hungry. I didn't expect you back until this evening.”  
  
“Shall I go, then, and leave you to your book? I would hate to be an interruption...”  
  
Hermione shook her head, and stood, reaching out to touch him. “You know very well you are a most welcome interruption.”  
  
She tugged at his black school robe, willing his face down to hers. “Now, kiss me.”  
  
He obliged, and Hermione was soon lost in the amorous connection of their minds, floating away on the blissful waves of emotion between them. A sudden yowl from Crookshanks alerted them to a commotion coming from the back edge of the lawn. Bodies still entwined, they turned their heads to see a large black streak fly out of the woods, heralded by the snapping and crashing of brush and hoarse bellowing.  
  
“Nettie! Net- bloody hell! Come back here! Nettie...”  
  
Hagrid's voice trailed off as he emerged into the clearing of the back yard and froze. “Hermione? What're yeh... doin' here?”  
  
Surprisingly, Severus had not let go of her. He pressed a hand into her back and walked down the steps with her out onto the lawn.  
  
“Good afternoon, Hagrid,” he said. A silence followed as Hagrid, looking confused, wiped his brow with his sleeve.  
  
“ 'Afternoon, Professor Snape,” he said, shuffling his feet a bit. “I, ah... was tryin' to figure out where Nettie's been gettin' off to lately.”  
  
The three of them stared at the space on the grass between them where Nettie and Crookshanks were rubbing against one another in a happy greeting.  
  
“I noticed she was headin' off toward the village a lot, but neither me nor anybody else ever sees her there. She hadn't been in the castle, either.”  
  
Hagrid cleared his throat, and took another step forward. “So... I suppose I know where she's been gettin' to... she took a real strong likin' to Hermione's critter when she was here at the castle.”  
  
Severus' hand seemed to burn itself into her back as Hermione stood mortified, listening to Hagrid put it all together.  
  
“Well... I suppose I'll be goin' then,” said Hagrid. “Good to see yeh, Hermione. Ah, next time yer in, perhaps we can get a drink in the village?”  
  
Hermione smiled. “I'd like that, Hagrid.”  
  
Hagrid wrung his hands a bit, looking at Severus. “And, uh... perhaps you would'd like to join as well, Professor?”  
  
Hermione felt Severus' thumb rub a circle on the small of her back. “That could be arranged.”  
  
Hagrid eventually made his exit, bidding them to watch after Nettie for him. As soon as he was gone, Hermione turned to Severus.  
  
“What was _that_?” she asked.  
  
A smirk was her only answer for a moment, and he wrapped his arm around her waist again.  
  
“Would you be content to keep this a secret, forever?” he asked, leading her back toward the house.  
  
“No...” she trailed off, searching his profile. “You realize that Hagrid will have told someone within the week, despite his good intentions to the contrary? The things he accidentally let slip to Harry, Ron, and I all these years... well, let's just say I love Hagrid, but I'd never trust him with a secret.”  
  
“Indeed,” said Severus, “I suggest you quickly figure out how you would like to break the news to your friends, before Hagrid does it for you.”  
  
“Perhaps we should have a talk with Hagrid, though... you, know, so that he at least _tries_ to keep it quiet around the school and Hogsmeade.”  
  
They agreed on that point, and also that Harry, Ginny, Minerva, Alan, and Margaret would be the only other people to be officially told and sworn to secrecy for the time being.  
  
It came as no surprise to Alan, Margaret, and Minerva that Hermione and Severus were more than friends. If they had any reservations about the relationship, they did not say anything in the couples' presence.  
  
Harry and Ginny, however, were more critical of Hermione's revelation. Severus had been adamant about not being present for the initial conversation. Hermione visited Grimmauld Place one weekend when Harry was out with Ron and broke the news to Ginny one evening over pints of ice cream from the corner store.  
  
“So, Gin...” she said, after they had caught up and a short silence stretched on between them.  
  
“Yes, Hermione?”  
  
“You know how I told you I wasn't bringing anyone to your wedding?”  
  
Ginny took a large bite of ice cream while studying Hermione.  
  
“You've got a new guy?” she asked.  
  
“Er, yes, I have.”  
  
Ginny scraped the last bit of ice cream from her bowl and ate it before putting it aside.  
  
“Hermione! That's fantastic! Tell me who it is, you sly fox, and I want details! Of course you can bring him! I hated that you were coming alone with the rest of us paired off, and Will bringing _Lilah_.”  
  
Ginny made a face of disgust as she said the name of Will's latest fling. Lilah reminded Hermione a bit of Lavender. The witch had hated Hermione from the moment they met at the Charlie's birthday party. With Ginny staring at her expectantly, Hermione involuntarily cringed with the knowledge that what she was about to say would not be well received.  
  
“Ah, well... it's actually someone you know or... er, knew.”  
  
Ginny simply raised her eyebrows and waited for Hermione to continue.  
  
“It's...” Hermione faltered, feeling her hands go clammy and the rest of her body break out in a sweat out of sudden nervousness. This was going to be real and messy and awkward and difficult, and there was no going back to the secrecy of the past year because Hagrid already knew, so...  
  
“Bloody hell, Hermione!” barked Ginny impatiently.  
  
“It's Severus Snape!” said Hermione quickly, gasping for a breath. “I'm seeing Severus. I have been for a while now.”  
  
A long pause followed, during which Ginny's eyebrows stayed stuck halfway up her forehead, then slowly lowered into a scowl as she peered at Hermione through narrowed eyes.  
  
“You want,” she whispered, “to bring Professor Snape to my wedding? Because you have been _dating_ him?! Hermione... please tell me this is some kind of joke.”  
  
“It's not a joke.”  
  
“Hermione.”  
  
“Ginny.”  
  
“Hermione!”  
  
Ginny leaned closer to study Hermione's serious face. She burst out laughing. “Are you crazy? Snape. Snape? How?”  
  
Hermione giggled.  
  
“Honestly! How did this happen?”  
  
She gripped Hermione's shoulders, nearly toppling them off the sofa. “I need answers!”  
  
“All right!”  
  
Righting themselves, Ginny made herself comfortable facing Hermione, hugging a pillow in her lap. “So, Snape. How long has this been going on?”  
  
"Well, it sort of started our last year at school..."  
  
"While you were working on your potions project?!" gasped Ginny.  
  
"That's when I realized how much we had in common," said Hermione. "But I suppose I might have fancied him since sometime after we were cursed in the battle... I would not admit it then, of course."  
  
“But how did it happen? Did you ask him out? Seduce him one night in the Potions room? Did you and Snape _do stuff_ down there?" Ginny asked.  
  
"No, we didn't...do...anything while I was at Hogwarts."  
  
"But you wanted to."  
  
"Well... _I_ certainly did. He, ah, may have noticed," Hermione said.  
  
Ginny shook her head solemnly. "I thought I knew you, Hermione Granger... but I suppose if anyone was going to fancy a professor, it would be you."  
  
Hermione laughed. "What is that supposed to mean, exactly?"  
  
"I dunno," shrugged Ginny. "You love learning, and you love most all your teachers already. How long have you been seeing him?"  
  
"Just after school started last year."  
  
Hermione and Severus had agreed that they should not tell quite the whole truth of the matter, even to close friends.  
  
"How did it happen?" Ginny asked.  
  
“Well...” Hermione struggled to find a way to explain without actually lying. “Margaret and Alan often invited me to have lunch with them over the summer... and Severus was usually there, too.”  
  
Ginny could not help giggling a little when Hermione said his name.  
  
“And when I was still working in the apothecary a few days a week, he would stop in to see Alan... or at least that was his excuse.” Hermione cleared her throat. “Then, he asked me to dinner on my birthday.”  
  
Ginny's eyes widened. “So that's why you insisted on having no party, and disappeared all evening... you weren't really with your parents!”  
  
Hermione only smiled. They actually _had_ been in Australia for her twentieth birthday.  
  
“Where did he take you?”  
  
“To his house,” Hermione said, as Ginny's eyebrows shot up. “We couldn't very well go out together without causing a scene if someone saw us. He made me dinner.”  
  
“He did not.”  
  
“He did!”  
  
“Snape made you dinner. For your birthday.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Wow.” Ginny stared at her. “I just... can't imagine that actually happening. Snape _cooks_?”  
  
“Mmm, very well.”  
  
“Wow.” Ginny fell silent for a few moments. “Everyone is going to lose their minds when they find out... are you sure you're ready to, uh, go public?”  
  
Hermione laughed and said, “Actually, no... as much as I would like to bring someone to your wedding, we're not ready for the attention, and I wouldn't do that to you on your wedding day. Mostly, I'm not ready to listen to your mum try to talk me out of it!”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh, she would surely try, since it's Snape! He's your former professor, she thinks he's odd and rude, and... he's old.”  
  
“He is not that old!”  
  
“Well, he's a lot older than _us_...”  
  
Hermione smiled. “Ginny, you grew up as a witch. You know just as well as I do that most magical folk wouldn't blink twice at the age difference.”  
  
“Well, no, not older folk, but people our age will.”  
  
Hermione shrugged and said, “It doesn't bother me.”  
  
Ginny sat back against the couch and shook her head. “This is... really weird, Hermione.”  
  
“Yeah. When I first realized that I fancied Professor Snape, I was... sort of horrified.”  
  
Ginny laughed and said, “I thought I sometimes caught you staring at him. I just never would never would have imagined that he might be interested in you.”  
  
“Oh, thanks a lot!”  
  
“Hermione, you know what I mean!”  
  
It was Hermione's turn to shake her head. “It's all right. I felt the same way, though I suspect for slightly different reasons.”  
  
Another silence, and Ginny turned to her again. “So... what's he like?”  
  
“He's the same person you know from our seventh year, only... romantic. He once took me out to in the middle of the forest, played some music, and asked me to dance.”  
  
Ginny gave her an incredulous look. “Well that's... surprising. But I meant, what's he _like_.”  
  
“Oh, you mean, as a lover? He's brilliant. His age and, ah, _experience_ , are not a problem in that area.”  
  
Ginny coughed and choked, laughing again.  
  
“I didn't know it could be so amazing,” Hermione continued, unfazed. “Obviously, he's good with his hands... and his mouth... and, er, other parts...”  
  
Ginny gasped for air. “Hermione... stop... I'm sorry I asked!”  
  
Hermione simply smiled and waited until Ginny had overcome her fit and was able to meet her eyes with a more serious expression.  
  
“Ginny, we aren't going to hide it forever, but promise me you won't tell anyone yet. I'm going to tell Harry, of course, but that's it for now.”  
  
“Of course, Hermione.” Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, you could still bring him to the wedding... and just act as if you're both there alone. I'll just tell mum that Harry decided he really wanted Snape to be there. McGonagall, Hagrid, and Slughorn are coming, so it would not be so odd for Snape to attend as well. It would work well, I think.”  
  
“I'll ask him if he's agreeable to that plan,” said Hermione. She hoped that he would come.  
  
When Harry returned, Hermione convinced him to go for a walk. He was astonished, to say the least, when Hermione told him about Severus, and that he would be coming to the wedding.  
  
“But... but it's _Snape!_ How could you – _why_ would you... he was in the same year as my parents, Hermione! Are you mental?”  
  
“Harry.”  
  
“I don't even care about him coming to the wedding! I would have invited him already, if I had thought there was any chance of him actually coming... but, bloody hell, Hermione, there's loads of great blokes your own age in London who'd love to ask you out. Half of Willie Beck's friends, for one."  
  
“All of them are also quite a bit older than me,” Hermione pointed out.  
  
“Well, yeah, but they're a lot closer to our age than Snape!”  
  
“Harry.”  
  
He sighed, and looked at her.  
  
“Yes, it's _Snape_ ,” she said. “No, you won't be able to talk sense into me. I... I love him.”  
  
Harry stared at her.  
  
“It's not just some affair with a professor,” she said quietly. “I can't imagine being with anyone else.”  
  
“Does he feel the same way?” Harry demanded, doubtful.  
  
“Yes,” Hermione answered confidently, and gazed steadily at Harry, daring him to challenge her.  
  
“Hermione, this is weird...” he said, looking away and running his hand through his messy hair.  
  
Hermione continued staring at Harry calmly.  
  
“Okay. Fine. So you're with Snape,” he said at last, looking at her again. “You don't want anyone to know yet. He's coming to my wedding. Got it. I won't tell anyone, Hermione. They wouldn't believe me anyway.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
They walked in silence for a block on their way back to the house.  
  
“I suppose Snape wasn't so bad our last year at Hogwarts,” said Harry after a while.  
  
Hermione smiled. “You can go ahead and admit that you like him too,” she said, now grinning. “I won't tell anyone.”  
  
So it happened that Hermione and Severus both attended the Weasley-Potter wedding. They arrived and were seated apart, but after the reception was well underway Hermione made her way over to where Severus sat with Minerva, Hagrid, Slughorn, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. As soon as Shacklebolt had taken his date off to the dance floor, Hermione borrowed the seat next to Hagrid.  
  
“Hello, Professors,” she said, looking around the table.  
  
“Ah, Miss Granger! How lovely of you to come chat with your old professors, when there are so many handsome young wizards here. Might I add, you look very beautiful this evening," said Slughorn.  
  
Hermione, Severus, and Minerva shared a conspiratorial look, and Hagrid looked away conspicuously.  
  
“Thank you. How are you, Professor Slughorn?” she asked.  
  
“Very well this evening,” he said, sipping his wine. “I like nothing better than celebrating with my former students, especially when they start marrying one another. Yes, this is the wedding of the year, I'm sure... ah, if you'll excuse me, there's the happy couple now! I must go congratulate them...”  
  
He bobbled off, in great spirits. Hermione turned to Severus. “He seems happy to be here,” she observed.  
  
“I believe Horace is of the opinion that his little social club was responsible for this marriage,” said Severus.  
  
Minerva smiled and raised her goblet to her lips.  
  
“I rather like you in green,” said Hermione, commenting on the dress robes of darkest green that Severus had worn, the same ones which had sat forgotten in his closet for years prior.  
  
 _You already know what I think of your attire,_ he thought, as they shared a long look.  
  
Hagrid coughed and stood, mumbling an excuse to leave. Minerva regarded them with interest, but refrained from commenting for the moment.  
  
Hermione was wearing the pale gold gown that Ginny had picked for her, of which Severus approved. It had sleeves that came down just past her elbows, a high neckline, and a low, draped back that came to about the mid-point of her spine. Harry and Ginny had chosen to decorate with Gryffindor colors, which went well with the autumn leaves adorning the trees outside the church in Godric's Hollow where Harry's parents had been married, and where the ceremony had taken place.  
  
A tall, dashing older wizard appeared and swept Minerva off to dance. Hermione thought she recognized him as a Ministry official, but could not quite place him or recall his name. Now alone at the table, Hermione gazed at her raven-haired lover, who had fixed her with a look that made her consider Apparating away with him to someplace they could be alone.  
  
“Let's dance,” she said impulsively, as the band started playing a lovely slow tune. His brow shot up.  
  
“In the current company, which happens to include nearly every Gryffindor Hogwarts has seen since Arthur Weasley attended there, the entire Weasley clan itself, international Quidditch players, and half the Ministry?”  
  
Hermione sighed. “It's just a dance. It doesn't have to mean anything to anyone who doesn't already know. Just one, and then you can go steal Minerva from her partner to throw them off the scent.”  
  
He stood and offered his hand. “Miss Granger, would you care to dance?”  
  
She smiled merrily. “I should love to.”  
  
He withdrew his hand. “Unless, you think such a thing inappropriate between us.”  
  
His eyes mocked her.  
  
“Oh, shut up and dance with me!” She laughed, taking his hand.  
  
They entered the dance floor in the vicinity of mostly strangers – Weasley cousins and friends of family who had not attended Hogwarts and did not immediately recognize the famous and unlikely dance pair in their midst. Soon, however, other guests caught sight of them, and Hermione noted many double takes and stares cast in their direction. Choosing to ignore the attention, she lost herself in the cadence of their graceful movements. She felt Severus' hand move until his fingertips brushed the exposed skin of her mid-back and pressed lightly into her flesh, sending a tingle down her spine.  
  
“Careful, now,” she said. “People will get the wrong... er, right... idea about us.”  
  
He pressed her almost imperceptibly closer and murmured, “Then you must try harder not to look like you're enjoying yourself, Miss Granger. If I can see the desire in your eyes, someone else might well take notice.”  
  
“I suppose we could have a row, to take care of that,” she said. “Speaking of which, we still need to finish our discussion about my parents.”  
  
“I see no reason to tell them more than they need to know.”  
  
“They need to know the truth! I don't like lying to them.”  
  
“It is too soon," he insisted.  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “It's been more than a year since they met you, and you get on brilliantly with them. What are we waiting for?”  
  
Severus leaned in to whisper in her ear. “For your mother to ask me when I plan to propose.”  
  
Hermione laughed. “Oh, is that it? What if she never does?”  
  
“She will,” he said simply.  
  
Hermione smiled at his confident assessment of her mother's nosiness. “And how will you answer her?”  
  
“That we will marry if and when you desire it.”  
  
“Oh. So... you have no opinion on the matter?”  
  
“A ceremony and title matter little to me,” he said. “But I acknowledge that an official union has its benefits in wizarding society.”  
  
Hermione would have answered that she felt much the same, but their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the flash of a camera. She turned to glare at none other than Will Beck's former assistant photographer, Tara, who grinned at them before scampering away.  
  
“Brilliant,” she said wearily, trying to pull away to go after the witch. “Why the bloody hell are there reporters here?!”  
  
Severus kept his grip tight on her, preventing her from moving away. “Potter gets married in Godric's Hollow and invites half the Ministry, and you did not think there might be a few photographers that would crash the party?”  
  
“Let go, Severus – I'm going to go find her and make her sorry she ever dared!”  
  
“Leave her be,” said Severus calmly, earning himself a questioning look from Hermione.  
  
“If we are to eventually allow our relationship to become public knowledge, we must have some basis for when it started, and the truth will hardly do,” he replied in answer.  
  
“You mean, we should let everyone think it all began when you asked me to dance at Harry's wedding?” she asked.  
  
“Precisely.”  
  
Hermione smiled at the thought that for all most people in attendance would ever know, this very moment was the beginning of her relationship with Severus Snape. She became acutely conscious of the eyes that followed them that evening. They played their parts well, acting interested in one another, yet not overly familiar. A few days later, their photograph did indeed appear in the paper alongside other candids from the wedding featuring Ministry officials and notable Hogwarts alumni. There was also a formal shot of Harry and Ginny, and another of them making their exit from the ceremony.  
  
Hermione sat with Severus eating breakfast at the house in Hogsmeade, admiring the photograph. The two of them swept through the frame gently, their long robes flowing around them in a mix of dark green and gold hues, dappled in the evening light and torches that had surrounded them.  
  
“Did you see our photo?” she asked, turning it around to show him.  
  
“I rather like it,” she said, watching his face. He studied it for a few moments, with little reaction.  
  
“As do I,” he finally agreed.  
  
“The rumors will have already started,” she said warily, but he did not seem bothered by the fact.  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
As she prepared to Apparate to work, Severus stopped her. “Shall we have lunch in Diagon Alley?” he asked.  
  
“Just the two of us?”  
  
“That is the idea.”  
  
Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed him goodbye. “Of course.”


	30. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love is the oldest and strongest magic..."

Love is the oldest and strongest magic: some say it is divine, the power of the mysterious and unknown gods diluted and sprinkled down upon mankind. It is the only magic that Muggles can wield. It heals, protects, transforms, and renews. Where it resides in one heart, it trickles down through generations and blesses those who are near. It refuses to be used for one's own ends, requiring self-sacrifice, often binding the most unlikely of souls together in fate, seemingly at whim.  
  
Severus had never expected love to touch him again after he lost Lily. Even his own mother, who had been something like caring now and then, had not seemed capable of love by the time Severus was old enough to remember her words and actions. She had closed her heart after her Muggle husband took her love and twisted it, and held her captive by the jealous, cruel thing he had created between them instead. Years had passed, the same ones in which Hermione Granger was born and grew into a bright young witch: years during which Severus scoffed at the idea of love's value. After all, it was Dumbledore who insisted that love could overcome all other magic, however dark it may be, if the circumstances were right. Dumbledore was a manipulative old bastard in Severus' book, and he had not for a moment believed that the man was sincere in such assertions.  
  
Dumbledore had been right, though, and now Severus realized that he and Albus might have shared a resignation to the idea that love was for other people, not themselves. Albus had been a solitary mastermind, carefully placing the right people for the necessary tasks on the correct paths and guiding their decisions along the way... but he had truly believed in love's power, even if he had not let it influence his decisions. All the things he spouted about love had not been just a means of convincing lesser mortals to do his bidding, or an attempt to appear infinitely wise, as Severus had often suspected.  
  
Severus had come around to belief - not that he had ever doubted love existed, only that it was not for him to enjoy. He had formed his mind into a many-layered sea that hid a deep, dark catacomb, into which he had banished all hope of a life beyond that of dutiful spy and servant. It had been easy enough, with no family or friends to tie him to any other life. Dumbledore might have used him, but he had also saved him. If Albus had not seen the opportunities presented in Severus Snape all those year ago, the disloyal young Death Eater would not have lasted long against his Dark Lord.  
  
It had not even hurt, admitting that he was wrong about love. It was like breathing again after holding one's breath until the darkness took over – he had been infinitely surprised and giddily relieved when it turned out he had not drowned after all.  
  
The sort of love that Severus now shared with Hermione was more than breathing, though. It was akin to flying (and he felt qualified to make that judgement as he was now capable of more than one type of flight). She was both the air that held him aloft and pushed him higher, and the feeling of elation in his chest that such a thing was possible.  
  
Such were the thoughts of Severus Snape on the morning of his wedding, at the tender young age of forty-nine, awaiting the first glimpse of his lover in the shade of a sprawling walnut tree. It had taken him years to freely ponder such flowery things in a mind used to squashing all but clean, logical thoughts out, but if ever there was an occasion for it... it was this day.  
  
All thoughts ceased in his mind when she appeared with a soft 'pop' of Apparition and a wide smile. Her twenties had gone, and had bequeathed her with indomitable confidence and grace, settling those virtues on her visage like a regal crown, dusting them over her face, draping them also over her shoulders and sweeping down even to her fingertips which were now as nimble and sure as his own while at work. Otherwise, she looked very much the same as she had at twenty-two. Severus could count a few more fine lines on his own face now, but that was to be expected when nearing fifty. Even wizards could not keep their youthful looks forever.  
  
“Shall we go, then?” she asked.  
  
He closed the space between them with a few steps and looked down at her. Her lashes fluttered as she peered up through them, smiling still. Her hair had been tamed into an elegant mass on top of her head, with a few pieces teased out here and there, as curly and wild as ever. He gently took one curl between his fingers and looked into her eyes, words failing him.  
  
“Come now, don't tell me you've finally gone sappy,” she scolded him lightly after a moment. “I might be tempted to change my mind.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow in familiar warning. “I know your mind well, witch, and it's told me otherwise.”  
  
He kissed her and said, “You are beautiful, as always.”  
  
“No, I am at least five times as beautiful as usual,” she corrected him cheekily. “For that's how many witches it took to complete... all of this.”  
  
She gestured to her body, clothed in a flowing white robe, with both luminescence spells and the traditional good luck and good health symbols charmed into the very fabric of the gown. They shimmered faintly in the shade of the walnut tree.  
  
Her hair must have taken at least an hour on its own, and her face bore the mark of either Ginny or Fleur's handiwork with a make-up brush and subtle charms to keep everything in place for the day. Her eyes were rimmed with darker shades than usual, but just as warm. The faint freckles on her nose were still visible, and her mouth perhaps just a bit more defined. It made the delicate dip in her upper lip stand out and drew more attention to her perfectly straightened smile.  
  
“You are always beautiful,” he reasserted. “Today, it is perhaps more obvious.”  
  
“Always so difficult,” she said playfully. “Thank you. Now come on, or we shall be late.”  
  
“We have exactly four minutes, and I hardly think it will take that long to Apparate to the back yard.”  
  
“Yes, but if I stand here with you looking like that much longer, we won't be making it to the ceremony... we will be starting the wedding night right here against this tree," she said.  
  
He smirked. “Looking like what, exactly? A wizard in a fairly standard dress robe?”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
His sly smile grew as she looked pointedly at him and then explained, “Looking like you can't wait to get this nonsense over with so that we can be alone.”  
  
He sobered. Under her calm and playful manner, she still worried that a ceremony did not matter to him.  
  
“It... is not nonsense.”  
  
The playfulness in her eyes left, and they grew slightly watery. “I know.”  
  
She took his arm. “Ready?”  
  
They disappeared, and not long after that were officially bound together in love and life. The ceremony had been altered a bit by Hermione, which thankfully would not cause much of a stir within their small gathering of witnesses. Hermione's parents were the only family present. Minerva, Margaret and Miranda, Alan, and Hagrid were there, as were Harry and Ginny, and a number of Weasleys.  
  
Hermione had insisted on including the quickly multiplying spawn of her friends as well, and there were many young Potters and Weasleys present that day. Ginny, Padma, and Fleur were all quite obviously pregnant at the moment.  
  
Severus wondered if seeing her friends finish off their families together would awaken the desire in Hermione to start her own. Thus far, she was far more interested in her career and had shown no motherly inclinations other than to briefly hold the new babies and buy thoughtful, academically challenging gifts for the many young witches and wizards in her life.  
  
For the children's part, they seemed curious and a bit in awe of their wild-haired auntie who often showed up in their homes for dinner, and sometimes came to the family gatherings with the tall, severe-looking man they had been told was the headmaster of Hogwarts. The children seemed to be scared of Severus, which was just as well, since they would all presumably be his pupils one day.  
  
Once the ceremony was over, and the traditional kiss sealed the vows, the couple enjoyed a simple, comfortable reception in the company of their guests, accompanied by the music of a small strings ensemble comprised of Beauxbatons alumni.  
  
Margaret and Alan smiled at Severus as he approached, happy for the company of those he could call good friends without reservation. Hermione spoke to a few of the eldest children, all young girls, all Weasley and Potter cousins, giggling and blushing shyly at the attention from their Aunt Hermione in her wedding attire.  
  
Victoire and Dominique, the eldest of the group, were the most forward. Rose Weasley was more reserved but not far behind, taller by a few inches than both of them already, the spitting image of her infernally whiny father with long freckled limbs, bright orange hair and clear blue eyes. Her younger twin sisters pushed around her, demanding Hermione's attention next. Most onlookers would find the five-year-olds endearingly precocious, Severus noted, unwilling to admit that he might as well. One was red-headed, and the other had her mother's black mane and darker complexion, but they shared the same large, dark eyes, petite frame, and the unmistakable Weasley grin.  
  
Not wanting to relinquish all the attention to their cousins, the Potter boys were soon gallivanting through the group of young witches, the younger one, named Albus, waddling along behind his brother shouting, “Hermy! Hermy!”  
  
Severus looked on with some amusement as James Sirius (as of course the firstborn Potter been named) marched up to his new wife and told her she was pretty. The boy was a Potter, through and through, and would probably give Severus good reason to consider early retirement when he finally graced the halls of Hogwarts.  
  
“Congratulations, Severus,” said Alan warmly, as Severus joined them. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I had begun to think you and your lovely partner were either terrified of commitment or making a political point by waiting all these years.”  
  
“Which of those is your excuse, then?” Severus asked.  
  
“We're too old to bother,” Margaret chimed in. “And we like to fancy ourselves too independent for such things.”  
  
“A delusion at this point, I'm afraid,” Severus remarked. “I've rarely see one of you without the other since the day you were first introduced... by myself, I might remind you.”  
  
Margaret laughed, in good spirits. “As you never let us forget! I believe you are very proud of your foray into matchmaking.”  
  
Margaret was right – Severus considered it a great accomplishment that he had managed to bring two of the few people he genuinely liked together with great success. It was convenient to be able to always see them together, for even with people he liked Severus preferred to limit social engagements.  
  
Hermione was the only person he allowed to intrude on his time as she pleased, though being of the same introspective nature, she gave him plenty of time alone while she was immersed in her books. Sometimes they would brew together for hours, barely speaking more than a few words and exchanging occasional glances across their cauldrons, communicating more with thoughts and touch than anything else.  
  
When the evening finally drew to a close and their guests trailed off into the night, many to spend the night in Hogsmeade since they were under the influence of too much wine to magic themselves home, Severus and Hermione sat on the front porch of their Hogsmeade home and watched the bats swoop about, the owl that lived in the back wood hooting in the distance, and the cheery lights of the village twinkling at the end of the dirt road before them.  
  
“It was perfect,” Hermione said, leaning to rest her head on his shoulder.  
  
He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “You say that as if the night is over.”  
  
He could feel her smile on his arm where her cheek was pressed. “I have no doubt that my appraisal will still stand in the morning.”  
  
She lifted her face and drew him down with an urgent hand pressed into the back of his head.  
  
“Come, husband,” she whispered. “Let's get you to bed. You've been buttoned up in all those layers for far too long this evening.”  
  
She stood and trailed a light hand up his arm and over his shoulder, inviting him to follow her inside. He grabbed her hand as she made to enter the threshold and pulled her roughly back into his chest.  
  
“Not so fast... wife,” he said, kissing her there in the doorway, sensing her thrill of surprise and pleasure rise up as it always did when he suddenly took charge.  
  
He lifted her up, and she responded with a mouth insistent against his, arms around his neck, legs wrapped tightly around him as he walked them inside. Nudging the door shut with an elbow, he took a few more steps and pressed her against the wall next to the painting of the Hogs Head Tavern that hung in the entryway. Severus smiled against her mouth as she assaulted his mind with desire, losing quite a bit of control, and the image of a familiar fantasy flashed through her thoughts, the telltale stone of the castle walls in the background.  
  
“Soon, witch,” he said. “But certainly not on our wedding night?”  
  
“No,” she answered. “Tonight I want you here... in our house.”  
  
Severus returned to Hogwarts a week later, having left Minerva in charge with complete confidence, only select members of the faculty and staff any wiser as to where the headmaster had been. They had only been told he would be away for an important matter, and unless they looked very carefully at Severus' left hand, their eyes would tend to overlook the plain band that modestly proclaimed the news.  
  
Of course, it was not long before word got around the village that a ceremony had taken place at the headmaster's house, and not much longer before Hagrid had told a few people about Severus and Hermione finally tying the knot. Days after the news spread through Hogsmeade, it hit the papers – the official documents had been filed, and it was now public knowledge that Hermione Granger had indeed married her former Potions professor.  
  
The rumors had been around for years, from the moment they had danced together at Harry's wedding, but they had operated so discreetly that only close friends had been sure of the truth. The house in Hogsmeade, like the castle, had its own ways of discouraging prying eyes. Though they went out often in public together, they both so detested the attention of fame that they had refrained from acting as any more than unlikely friends in the public eye.  
  
By the time Hermione finally took Slughorn's place as Hogwarts' Potions professor, after many years and various notable accomplishments as a Potions Mistress, she no longer received stares and awkward questions from strangers and acquaintances alike. Professor Granger-Snape was welcomed warmly to Hogwarts, as she had made a name for herself beyond her past as the best friend of Harry Potter and her marriage to Severus Snape, her Potions work including the creation of several new potions brewed with spell work, and improving the methods of applying Wandless Magic to the binding of delicate potions.  
  
After coming back to Hogwarts to teach, working together with Severus, Hermione pioneered research into the small differences that make potions more effective for Muggleborn magical folk, who are now known to metabolize potions more quickly and to build tolerance faster than witches and wizards from long pureblooded lines.  
  
Years passed happily and peacefully for Severus and Hermione, until they welcomed the offspring of Hermione's friends to the castle at last. The various Potters and Weasleys spent their fair share of time in detention, despite knowing many of the professors and even the headmaster well. Severus had to admit, though, that the latest incarnation of James Potter was much improved over the last, and was far more tolerable than his father had been at that age. The boy seemed to have inherited some of Lily's academic prowess, and was quite average at flying considering his parents' talents on the Quidditch pitch.  
  
The year the second Potter boy, Albus, came to Hogwarts was also the year Hermione spent a few months walking the corridors and pacing the classroom on tired, pregnant feet before their daughter was born nearly a full week late on the twenty-fourth of June. Severus might have been in his fifties, but nevertheless he still felt young and unprepared the first time he held her – Corva Sophronia Snape.  
  
Whether it was a surprise or the result of renewed baby fever after seeing Hermione become a mother at last, Ginny Potter soon followed with her last child, born almost a year later on the first of May. The girl was the spitting image of Lily Evans, more so than her older sister who was their grandmother's namesake. She was fittingly named Asphodel Renee, and was called “Dela” all her life.  
  
Over the years, Severus and Harry had become incrementally closer until they were something like friends, or perhaps more like relatives who loved one another despite being very different sorts of people. Time – and Hermione – pushed them together often enough that Harry grew to genuinely like and deeply respect the taciturn partner of his best friend, whom he had once hated.  
  
Severus admitted to Hermione that he was now able to see much more of Lily in her son than just her eyes, and one fateful day had bid her to tell Harry some of what she knew about Lily's friendship and love for her childhood friend. Harry, of course, was not content to absorb the information without speaking to Severus openly about his mother. Eventually, he knew all there was to know about Lily Evans and Severus Snape, and treasured the details Severus could tell him about his mother as a child and young witch.  
  
And so it came about that Harry Potter asked Severus Snape to be his youngest child's godfather, for she was born some years after Harry learned about his mother and Severus. Hermione was already godmother to Lily Luna, joining George and Charlie Weasley as godparents to James Sirius and Albus Remus, respectively.  
  
James and Albus grew up to make their godfathers proud. James was an academically brilliant, creative smart-arse, and the ever-adventurous Albus traveled the wizarding world procuring rare and dangerous potion ingredients. Lily was nothing like Hermione, but the two got on well since she was very much like Ginny. Lily followed in her mother's footsteps and had a successful Quidditch career before marrying and starting a family.  
  
Asphodel Potter and Corva Snape became good friends as children and only grew closer as they got older. Both were overachievers and dedicated researchers who left a school of magical higher education as their legacy, The Dela-Corva School of Advanced Magical Studies.  
  
Corva Snape was an only child, like both of her parents before her. She grew into a gangly, long-limbed teen who soon became a tall witch with an imposing presence and expressive dark brown eyes that were generally piercing but with the right person became warm and open just like Hermione's. She owned a slightly smaller version of her father's nose, and the delicate smile of her mother, when she chose to share it. Her black, shiny hair fell in thick waves, and she wore it long, often pulled back in a simple bun or braid to keep it out of the way.  
  
Severus was nearly eighty by the time he met his newborn granddaughter, Elva Perryn Snape. Corva worked in Brazil for a year in her early twenties, and she returned home more than a few months pregnant, announcing her engagement to Albus Potter. Unfortunately, it was the last time anyone would see Albus. He took one last trip to Albania before the wedding to collect dragon's blood from a Venomous Lengaverde, took one too many risks, and was killed by the beast.  
  
Corva and Asphodel raised Elva together, with the support of her grandparents and her godmother, Lily.  
  
Elva Snape grew up smart, strong, and high-spirited, reminding everyone of her father with her bright almond green eyes and perpetually disheveled black hair. She too, traveled the world for a few years, working for the Department of Mysteries in some secret capacity. She then became an Auror, returned to London to stay, and married a wizard named Amadeus Beale. Their daughter was born two days after Severus' one hundredth birthday. Delacorva Beale attended Hogwarts just after Severus retired and Hermione took over as headmistress.  
  
Severus lived to see his great-granddaughter marry a squib named Magus MacMartin in 2084, just two years after Delacorva helped Magus save the world – but that is another story entirely.  
  
Horatia Bartram moved to the states with her brothers and became a successful actress. Muggles marveled at how well she aged, until one day at the age of seventy-seven, she mysteriously disappeared. Her true age was ninety-four when she moved to one of the numerous wizarding towns scattered across the west coast and was never seen by a Muggle again. She married many times, all famous Muggles, but retired alone. Severus received letters from her once a year from the time she left Hogwarts, and an expensive set of self-cleaning china as a wedding gift. She seemed determined to remind him regularly how exciting her life had become once leaving Hogwarts.  
  
Neville and Luna married and had two children, twin girls named Lonicera and Liriope. Luna became a Magizoologist and Neville eventually filled Pomona Sprout's shoes as the Herbology professor at Hogwarts after a few years as an Auror and a few more years traveling with Luna as she completed field work in various sites around the world.  
  
Lavender fulfilled her dream of marrying a Quidditch player. After dating quite a few international athletes, she settled down with the Seeker for Belgium's team and had a little boy named Rune who was in James Potter's year at Hogwarts and became Gryffindor team Keeper.  
  
Ron and Padma had five children: Rose, who looked just like Ron, Chanda and Nisha, the twins, Selena, who was the tallest, and Archer, the only boy. All were freckled in varying degrees. Rose and Archer were nearly as pale as Ron, and all were red-haired but Nisha, who looked the most like her mother but acted the most like her Aunt Ginny. Padma briefly worked as a Magical Historian before her family grew, and later in life was hired as the librarian at Hogwarts.  
  
Asphodel Potter never had any children of her own, but she was a mother to Elva and became a beloved aunt and great-aunt many times over. Her siblings often teased her for being Harry's favorite child, since she was said to greatly resemble his mother Lily and was the youngest of the family by so many years she might have been an only child. Her features were mainly her mother's but unlike Lily Luna, she did not have Ginny's bright brown eyes. Hers were lively green, a sharp contrast to her fiery hair and pale freckled face.  
  
Delacorva and Magus had three children named Soren, Hermes, and Liliana. Both Severus and Hermione lived to meet all of their great-great-grandchildren.  
  
The Snape and Potter descendents remained tightly knit for many generations, long after Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Severus had moved on to the next great adventure.


End file.
